


The Centaur & Her Princess

by niteynyx



Series: Nitey's Commissions [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bestiality, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Branding, Breast Fucking, Centaurs, Cock Worship, Collars, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, Futanari, Hand Jobs, Horses, Humiliation, Lactation Kink, Large Breasts, Large Cock, Leashes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference, Tattoos, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niteynyx/pseuds/niteynyx
Summary: As Crown Princess to the Empire, Kyrie has been sheltered from the realities of the world. She loses her innocence at the hands of her oldest friend, her bodyguard Dame Reva: a centaur knight with a long, thick secret she has kept hidden from Kyrie all this time. Commissioned by Noob Salad.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Nitey's Commissions [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896736
Comments: 27
Kudos: 253





	1. The Chapter Without Smut

"This is going to be a wonderful week," Kyrie breathed out, her hands clapping together in a show of soft delight, their long and graceful fingers lacing together in a serene clasp. She turned a beaming smile on to her bodyguard, her sapphire eyes shining with fondness for her oldest friend. The Crown Princess' soft features fit her sunny disposition well, framed by the ridiculously intricate updo-ponytail her golden hair had been pulled into. "A parade! Why, we haven't had a parade in three months. Last year we had a parade every month!"

Reva snorted out of habit. From her, the noise was more chuff than not, a simple habit her people had. She crooked a patient smile down at her ward. The pair of them drew attention wherever they went.

Where Kyrie was radiant sunlight, Reva's appearance spoke more to a woman of nature, her face as powerful as it was lovely and smattered with freckles. The bright green of her eyes spoke to her fey blood. Her long hair fell wild down her back, a curly riot of red hair, a proper mane befitting a centauress. Confident as she was in her skill as the Crown Princess' personal knight, she wore little armor most of the time and left most of her human flesh bare. Though the leather halter she wore was studded for protection, its true purpose was to secure her impressive rack, hefty enough that other centauresses eyed them with jealousy. The top showed off her tanned skin and rippled stomach, and lest anyone get too interested in her or the Princess, arms that could clearly crush a man.

On her four cloven hooves, Reva towered over most men at eight feet tall. It wasn't just their beauty or stations that made them stand out, but their height. Kyrie's mother had been one of the few amazons to survive the Southern War, and she inherited plenty from her. Though the princess was no warrior, she had just enough lean muscle to fill out her six foot frame. Not that most people noticed it over her pouty lips or her full tits, large even on such a tall woman. Her bubbly ass was always safer to ogle (what was Reva going to do, turn on her heel?) but far less fun.

Though the Princess usually dressed conservatively, the Empire's capital had brutally hot summers. Men, even royalty, often went bare-chested while women went for lighter, more revealing clothes. Kyrie had chosen a tunic dress this morning, its white just sheer enough to hint at the tone of her fair skin beneath it. Artful gold embroidery scrawled across its collar. Reva could swear it outlined her charge's breasts more than it obscured them. Gods, but the thought of those soft pillows wrapping around...

No. No, no, no. It was her tribe's greatest honor that Reva had been sent to guard the Crown Princess.

Reva cleared her throat and looked to the path ahead of them, the stables and the royal riding grounds not far from them now. Kyrie was kind, if a little slow at times. It never seemed to click with her that bringing a centaur horseback riding might be offensive.

Actually, it was incredibly offensive. But Reva minded her tongue; she did her duty with grace and honor. It was only an hour or so each week. Kyrie couldn't be expected to learn about centaur culture. They were such a tiny part of the empire, after all, even if Reva was her constant companion and one could _reasonably_ expect some interest, if not learning by osmosis. She often suspected that Kyrie's overly voluptuous chest was her body's compensation for Kyrie's naivety. That one day, Kyrie would make up for her ditziness by wrapping her awe-inspiring mammaries around Reva's...

Nooo, no. She was looking again. "Reva?" Kyrie chimed, smiling beatifically as she noticed the staring. "Did I stain my tunic at breakfast?" she asked in her sweet innocence, checking herself before the flat-footed centauress could summon her wits and reply properly. There wasn't anything that she could see, but it was reasonable for her to assume there might be something on the front of the garment or perhaps on the bottom slope it created while hugging her tits. Her hands lifted and rounded over them, putting on an inadvertently lewd show of cupping her breasts and feeling over them.

Whatever words Reva wanted to say were lost in the returned fantasy of pinning her charge down on a table beneath her and fucking that beautiful cleavage with her unsheathed horse cock. Her breath caught before she snorted again, one leg stomping on the dirt floor, distracting herself from getting too aroused. Kyrie did /not/ know about her cock. It wasn't a conversation she meant to have with the princess, who seemed utterly unaware of her sex appeal or even sex itself.

"I-- no, Kyrie. I was just admiring it," Reva replied. It... wasn't a lie. Not really. She just wasn't being honest about what she was admiring. Kyrie accepted that answer with a fresh, beaming smile. They proceeded to the stable in companionable silence, with Reva forcing such improper thoughts from her mind. The princess loved to wear sandals with high laces up her calves during the summer, though she kept a pair of thigh-high riding boots in the stables. Once she had changed her footwear, they spent a time looking for the stablehand, who seemed to be out.

"Not a problem. I can prepare Silverlight for you," Reva assured Kyrie. Silverlight was her brother's horse, the only one that she would be willing to ride.

"Fantastic," Kyrie clapped her delight once more, excitement coursing through her body. Oh, but she loved riding horses. She loved the feel of such a large, muscular beast between her thighs. Its power, her own spreading warmth. Never with a saddle, of course! Her mother always said a true amazon rode bareback. Everyone smiled and laughed when the Queen said that, and a few people blushed too. If it made people happy, Kyrie was just as happy to take it at face value.


	2. The Chapter With Smut pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: this story is already completed and consists of roughly 22k words. I'll be posting a chapter a day until I've posted them all, so be sure to subscribe, join my Discord or follow me on Twitter if you want the updates as they happen. You can find the links on my profile or in the end of work notes. Enjoy!

Neither stablehand nor Silverlight were present in the stables.

“How odd,” Kyrie frowned, an expression that only emphasized the fullness of her virgin mouth, perfectly shaped for sucking cock. Reva thoughtlessly closed her eyes as the image struck her: the Crown Princess of the Cesta Empire laying on her back over a low table. Just low enough that Reva could stand comfortably over it, her rock-hard horse cock held between the plushness of Kyrie’s tits while her royal tongue dutifully worshiped its head. 

There was a suction-born pop as her lips left it and as she licked free the string of saliva that kept her mouth attached to the object of her affections, slowly squeezing and dragging the stiff pillar between her mammaries as though in compensation.

“Perhaps,” Kyrie told Reva breathily, “my brother has Silverlight out for a ride. The stablehand must be out for errands.” She blinked slowly, then darted her tongue down to lick the slit of her cock’s head. Reva shuddered. “Perhaps he’s buying fresh hay and carrots!” That was ridiculous, of course. Such things would be delivered to the royal stables. That rational thought reminded Reva that Kyrie was not, in fact, laying on a table, alternating between jacking her cock off between her breasts and tasting its head.

Reva blinked and realized at some point, her eyes had opened and she had begun staring. She cleared her throat again and chose to go with the path of least resistance and perhaps move the conversation somewhere else instead. “Maybe so, Your Highness. Would you like to wait here or carry on the day elsewhere until your appointment with the royal seamstress?”

They had been together for eleven years now, and Reva defaulted to informal address when in private with the princess. It usually made both of them more comfortable, more at ease. Whenever the naive princess got like this, though, her centaur knight threw up formality like a restraint. It helped her keep her focus, reminding her that for all her behaviors, Kyrie was not a bitch to be bred.

Kyrie bit her bottom lip in consternation, folding her arms just under her -- no, no, Reva was not going to look at them again. Especially not while Kyrie was doing as she often did when seized by indecision, absently swaying her body back and forth… back and forth… she could feel her rod begin to stir, begin to push its way out of its sheath. She snorted, willing herself to be free of a centaur’s summer lust. 

“I don’t know,” Kyrie sighed, letting her arms drop and turning, habitually graceful in her pacing along the other stalls to look over each horse in turn. None of them had Silverlight’s coloring or gentle bearing in spite of a powerful size. She considered the horse more friend than animal. Stopping before a chestnut-brown stallion’s stall, she leaned over the rail to consider the animal. “I was so set on riding today.” Were the horse any shade of humanoid, it would be entranced by the way the princess’ proud rack hung over the barrier.

Instead, it was a horse, and it took her nearness as a challenge, tossing its head and snorting a warning before lunging its head forward to bite her. Kyrie’s gasp of alarm quickly became a squeak of surprise as one of Reva’s thick arms scooped her up like a child and pulled the princess out of harm’s way, leaving her dangled for a moment with her ass still thrust out. “Careful,” Reva growled at her charge, snorting and flaring her nostrils at the stallion. It let out a whinny and backed away.

“Oh,” Kyrie finally laughed after the shock of the moment passed through her. “Thank you. I’m so lucky to have you,” she said, curling her fingers around Reva’s broad forearm and grinning sunnily at her. Being up that high reminded her -- and really, Kyrie needed the reminder -- that most of Reva just so happened to be like a horse. And Reva, like Silverlight, was her friend.

“Your wellbeing is my charge,” Reva paced away from the intimidated stallion’s stall and set Kyrie down, “but you must be more mindful of it yourself, Your Highness.” Kyrie’s elegant hands didn’t release Reva’s forearm but rather slid up it, hugging her protector’s arm to her bountiful bosom.

She was not, of course, mindful of her pillows’ danger. She wasn’t even mindful of what her breasts were really for, simply taking it on face value that men and women were different. The Queen had insisted that her daughter “discover what being a woman meant” on her own time, without guidance or study, and she was a fearsome enough woman that even the king toed lightly around her. 

Perhaps that would work for a full-blooded amazon; Kyrie the half-blooded amazon managed to bumble through her adolescence without learning the birds or the bees. Her pussy would get wet and sometimes her nipples would grow uncomfortably hard; it was just the way things were. Naive innocence kept her from drawing a connection between her damp panties and being manhandled by Reva.

Thankfully, doing her duty had put Reva in a more zen state of mind. Though she was painfully aware of Kyrie’s peak jutting against her arm, she felt no need to act on it and simply accepted the princess’ clinging for what it was; touchy-feely gratitude. Then Kyrie had to go ahead and open her mouth one more time, saying something that would turn the rest of their afternoon on its head.

“Could I just ride you?” Kyrie asked, beaming a pure-hearted grin as she plyed herself close to Reva’s captured arm. One of her hands fell away from it, touching Reva’s side and absently feeling along her ribs. “Your fur is so soft. We wouldn’t even need to use a saddle.”

Reva’s first impulse was to pick the princess up and throw her. She wasn’t sure if it would be to show her who would be riding who, or just angry violence at the demeaning, if unaware, implications. It was a show of submission for a centaur to let a bipedal creature ride them like a horse -- acceptable but rare for them to allow a liege or superior to do so in times of great need, because it would certainly turn them into the laughing stock of their tribe. 

More common for a centaur to allow their a _ khani _ to mount them so. The word loosely translated to “nothing but a slave”; someone who gave themselves over to the centaur in mind, body and soul and bore the brand to prove it. There was no shame in that. In fact, there was great honor in having akhani.

The centauress stared at Kyrie for several seconds before saying in a blunt deadpan, “No.”

When told ‘no’ so flatly by someone so much bigger than them, most people would pick up on the dangerous implications and tread softly from there on out. They would most likely, and quite sensibly, change the topic. Kyrie blinked her big blue eyes and asked with zero awareness of her predicament, “Why not?”

Reva could feel her jaw fall open. She really asked ‘why not’. It took her several more seconds to muster up her most eloquent reply. “You just can’t.”

Kyrie blinked again, her head cocking -just- so like a confused dog. She was incredibly naive, but not so stupid that she could take something like that at face value. “Tell me why you can’t.” Her arched brows pushed towards one another and with sudden concern she asked, “Is something wrong with your back?”

“No,” Reva replied, utterly flabbergasted before irritation took over. “Just drop it, Kyrie. You can’t.”

Kyrie was beloved by the Empire’s people for her genuine kindness and friendly nature, but she was still a princess, spoiled and used to getting her way. If she would not be allowed to ride her knight, she would at least know why. She released Reva’s arm and took a step back, her hands finding her hips. With a regal lift of her chin, she addressed her bodyguard. “Dame Reva, I order you to explain yourself to me. Now, without any more excuses.”

Reva could have screamed. She managed to get by with clenching her jaw and gritting her teeth, glaring daggers down at the half-amazon princess. Kyrie’s maternal blood rarely shone through, but it certainly did there in her stubborn defiance to being told ‘no’. It was a staring contest Reva eventually lost, snorting out her agitation. It took her a moment to come up with… well, something.

“We centaurs only let someone who has completed a certain ritual grace our backs,” Reva finally explained, which WAS an answer. It technically wasn’t a lie. That was good. She felt some of the pressure the situation foisted on her dissipate. 

“Oh.” Kyrie’s stare was killed off by the swift reappearance of her beaming smile. “A cultural thing! That makes sense.” Her hands lifted and came together in a merrily decisive clap. “In that case, can we just do the ritual now?” she asked, looking up at her friend with nothing but love and trust on her face after their very short squabble.

Reva’s eyes opened wide and her nostrils flared, followed by a rough swallow in her throat. Her cock was threatening to escape its sheath again, regardless of her will to fight against it, and her tongue felt too-large and clumsy in her mouth when she spoke again. “That’s not a great idea, Your Highness,” she began to explain.

“Nonsense,” Kyrie cheerfully declared. “Does it take long?”

“It would depend--”

“Do we have everything we need on hand?” Kyrie interrupted again, perking her eyebrows.

“Well, yes--”

“Then I see no reason to delay,” Kyrie clapped her hands with joy once more, her smile wide and open. “What must I do?”

On one hand, Reva knew this was a really bad idea. On her other hand… Reva was beyond frustrated with Kyrie and her thoughtlessness, her ignorance. However, since they began to mature, the crown princess blithely acted like a cocktease towards her without ever realizing how it tortured Reva. She weighed her two options. Her cock won over her brain. She would teach Kyrie a lesson she would never forget.

“Fine,” Reva grunted as she came to that conclusion, stepping forth and reaching out to scoop the princess up again by under her arms, much to Kyrie’s squealed delight. Her hooves thumped their way down the stable, finding an empty stall and placing her charge inside. Reva’s massive body blocked Kyrie’s only exit. For all intents and purposes, she was a cornered animal.

“Now what?” Kyrie asked, unaware of any danger and quite happy to be right where Reva wanted her. Right where Reva had wanted her for some time and had always pushed away from, denying herself.

That was a good question. Reva had a ready answer.

“Take off your clothes. Everything but your boots,” Reva said, reaching behind herself to her leather halter’s ties. It fell away from her body and landed in the stall’s hay, baring her high and proud rack to the warm air, their tips jutting out. She only wore the halter in the capital for social norms. Back home, female centaurs were proud of their tits and never hid them.

For all Kyrie’s trust and interest in the ‘ritual’, the request startled her and gave her significant pause. She didn’t need to ask ‘what’; Reva was clearly serious. Still. “It’s filthy in here. Couldn’t we do this at home instead?” she asked, so confident in her suggestion that she stepped towards the fallen halter. “Here, I’ll help--”

“No,” Reva growled lowly, reaching out and grabbing hold of Kyrie by her ponytail, jerking her golden hair like a leash to yank her upright just as she bent to collect the fallen garment. “We do this here. We do this now. You do what I tell you to do. Understand?”

Kyrie, shocked and mouth left briefly agape, could only nod. Reva glowered down at her, pent-up years of irritation and sexual frustration bursting out of the centaur knight now. “And don’t make me wait,” she barked, her other hand grabbing the neckline of Kyrie’s tunic and tearing it wide open. The princess gasped, further startled by the sudden and forceful disrobing. If not for her bra, her tits would have spilled right out of the ruined dress.

As it stood, Reva released the torn part of the dress and grabbed one of the bra’s cups, ripping it straight off to reveal Kyrie’s perfect, heaving breasts, her nipples beyond pebbled and more like than not ready to cut diamonds. This still wasn’t fast enough for Reva, having waited far longer than Kyrie might ever realize. “Everything but your boots,” she barked again, giving the blonde ponytail another harsh yank before pushing her (lightly) away.

“Ouch! But I’m-- oh! Right!” Panties were a thing. Beyond damp and sticking to her skin, she had just gotten accustomed to them. She stumbled after the push, but once she found her balance she obediently hooked her thumbs into her underwear and began to pull them down, bending to get them over her thighs. The sudden presence of Reva’s hand on her shoulder had her glancing over her shoulder curiously, the sodden panties around her knees.

“Stay bent over,” Reva ordered, releasing Kyrie’s shoulder in favor of her ponytail once more. She wanted to ride? Fine. Reva had the reins. She snorted lowly and further uttered, “This is an important part of the ritual. You must be exact. Stare at the wall and repeat after me.”

Utter bullshit.

“Okay,” Kyrie replied softly, still full of trust as she aligned herself forward. She braced her fingers on her knees for balance, the panties falling to stretch between the calves of her boots.

“I beg your forgiveness, Dame Reva, for I have been cruel in my ignorance,” Reva growled. Kyrie began to look over her shoulder, deeply confused. She yelped when Reva slapped her ass harshly, jolting her forward and then yanking her back into proper place by her hair. “Repeat after me, gods damn you.”

“I beg your forgive--AH!!” Kyrie squealed when Reva spanked her again, gasping and hurrying to ward off another blow to her until-then untouched ass. “I beg your forgiveness, Dame Reva, for I have been cruel in my ignorance!”

That felt good to hear.

Reva smirked to herself, digging her fingers deep into the princess’ bubbly ass. She slapped it one more time just for the sake of watching it jiggle and how well the red imprint of her hand showed. “Please,” she crooned mockingly, “forgive me for being unaware of my whorish body. I’m just a stupid slut.”

“Please,” Kyrie rushed without consideration or understanding of what she was saying, “forgive me for being aware of my whorish-- ahh!” Another smack jostled her anew. She was as quick to push her ass back out as Reva was to jerk her ponytail again, fully intent on suffering through this strange ritual for the privilege that awaited her. Still, she was panting, unused to any kind of punishment, let alone being spanked by a centaur under false pretenses. It took her a few seconds to figure out what brought about the last spank.

“Please,” Kyrie pleaded, “forgive me for being unaware of my whorish body. I’m just a stupid slut.” She tensed her ass when Reva’s hand alighted on it, relaxing and letting out a breath when nothing more than a soothing rub happened. Really, she was finding she didn’t even dislike the spanking. She pushed back against the hand, hips giving a lewd yet subconscious wiggle.

“Please,” Reva cruelly mimed the princess’ voice, “let me make it up to you. Let me be your stupid royal slut, Dame Reva. Let me be your akhani.” She leaned back and pulled one of Kyrie’s cheeks away from the other, drinking in what she knew was the very first look /anyone/ had of the princess’ unspoiled asshole and untouched pussy, the latter dripping wet and swollen dark in sharp contrast to her fair skin and the wisps of golden hair guarding the cock-ready slot. Not yet, though.

“Please,” Kyrie harped breathlessly, “let me make it--ohhhh…” A hot shiver ran through Kyrie’s body and her knees went weak as Reva slid her hand down to tickle her clit. Her moan dragged out, her hips bucking forward in a desperate attempt to get more of that finger /right now/. She whined pathetically when it left, her body still trying in vain for seconds more. “Please, that felt--”

Kyrie shrieked at the next and hardest of the spanks, her weakened legs just about buckling with it. She stayed a semblance of upright, in a bent-over sort of way, thanks to Reva’s continued clutch on her hair… which really wasn’t considerate of the elaborate braids that went into her intricate ponytail, making it much more wild as the knight’s manhandling continued. 

The princess eventually managed to continue, breathless from her panting. “Please, let me make it up to you!” She was so earnest and genuine, crying out the rest. “Let me be your stupid royal slut, Dame Reva. Let me be your akhani..!”

Words failed her as Reva resumed rubbing her clit, any previous coherence or eloquence lost to pathetic mewling and moaning. It only took a moment to bring the princess to the edge of her first orgasm, a wonderful occasion that would open her eyes to an entirely new world.

So of course, Reva left her right on the edge of the orgasm, much to Kyrie’s confused and frustrated groaning. “Oh, please,” the princess begged. “Do that more, Reva! Please!”

“Earn more, slut.” Reva told the princess flatly, her sadistic glee kept internal. She released her hair and gave one last spank to the royal backside, sending her spilling to her dirty stall floor, her face in the hay and her ass in the air. The knight was at her gentlest when she stepped forward and leaned forward just enough to hook hold of her hip and flip her over. Another step left her right over the dazed, lust-stricken princess.

Kyrie wanted to do nothing more, unaware her own fingers might shoot between her thighs and push her right over the precipice of pleasure. She was equally unaware of her position, her earlier reticence over disrobing in the stables forgotten in her lusty haze. The Crown Princess of the Empire, begging to cum on a dirty stable floor like a common harlot paid to do so, pushed around like a bitch in heat. She moaned lowly, taking a moment to register the sight Reva’s underbelly presented above her.

Her eyes widened considerably at the stiff, unsheathed horse cock protruding from her best friend’s crotch. Kyrie knew that men were different, but when it came to her knowledge of their anatomy below their chest, the extent of her knowledge was that they could pee standing up. She gasped softly, a noise that made Reva snort above her and bend her knees to bring her mammoth of a member closer to Kyrie.

The smell made her dizzy. “What is it?” Kyrie asked, full of awe at the sight of her first cock.

For a moment, Reva was stunned, her eyebrows shooting high on her forehead. Did she really not…? Only a moment, though. Her nostrils flared. “An important part of the ritual,” she growled. “If you want to ride me, you need to pay it the proper respect like a true akhani.”

“Respect?” Kyrie wondered dumbly, making herself somewhat comfortable beneath Reva, with one of her long legs sliding up and bending, foot to the dirt while her other leg stretched out. Her hips squirmed absently, her eyes glued to Reva’s cock.

Most centaurs, including Reva, viewed bipedal humanoids with pity and contempt. They were so much smaller, so much weaker. Ordinarily she would never, not in a thousand years, wish away being a centaur for convenience. In that moment, though, she dearly wished she could just bend down, grab Kyrie by her stupid blonde head and ram her cock straight down her throat. That would teach her the respect she should have been paying Reva all along.

Instead, Reva snorted again. “Take it in your hands,” she commanded what used to be her best friend, but was now well on her way to being the first royal akhani. 

Kyrie reached up slowly at the order, marveling at how her long and graceful fingers looked so small in comparison to the practical slab of horse meat. She let out a soft gasp at the heat of it and let her hands wander to explore it in all its glory, fixated by the soft feel and the hardness beneath it, the ridges -- the veins, though it didn’t occur to her that this beautiful scepter was just a part of Reva.

“It’s beautiful, Reva,” she said in a hush. “What a treasure.” When her fingers found the head, the centaur shuddered. Was this the respect she was meant to give it?

A distant memory came back to Kyrie, a story she overheard from scullery maids unaware of her presence behind them. Not that she was there to spy on them; it had been late at night and she had wanted a snack. They were grinning as they discussed the Queen’s first visit to the court, there to negotiate the amazon’s surrender in the Southern War. 

Their delight in it had been clear. Her father had commanded the proud then-Princess of the Amazons to kneel before his throne and respect the royal scepter. The maids tittered over how she did so proudly, polishing it proudly before kissing its head. It didn’t occur to Kyrie that her royal family did not actually possess a royal scepter. Still, it gave her an idea. 

She didn’t dare pull on such a precious treasure, so she reached up and dug her fingers into Reva’s side to sit herself up, putting her face to face with the centaur’s cock. Royal fingers cupped it like a treasure, like a holy chalice, cradling it worshipfully as she raised her chin just so and kissed its tip with loving affection. Its earthy, unknown taste struck her with a new wave of dizziness, her pussy flaring with heat.

The low snort above her was all she needed to hear to know that she was on the right track.

On her knees now, Kyrie’s kissable lips began laying dainty proof of her affection all over Reva’s knob, only slowing when she found the faintest bit of precum leaking from its slit. It tasted divine to her and seemed to come more frequently when she rubbed along the cock. Her delight cooed out every time she earned a fresh bead of it. 

She slowed again when one of Reva’s hooves stomped impatiently and she grunted out, “Open your mouth wide and start swallowing.”

“My mouth?” Kyrie asked, her eyes wide and tilting up to Reva’s underbelly, as though she might somehow see the knight’s face. “But it’s so big. There’s no way it could fit,” she said, continuing to jerk the knight off.

“Good akhina do as they are told,” Reva replied firmly. She knew exactly what Kyrie was about to say, and her hips already knew exactly how the two of them were going to reply. Reva could feel the princess’ hot breath on her dick.

“But-- ah!” Kyrie’s excuse was cut off by the short jut of a movement Reva made, cockslapping the princess with the wet clap of a saliva-slickened cock on flesh. Her knees felt weak again.

“Good akhina do as they are told,” Reva reiterated as she repeated the same movement several times over, accomplishing little more than poking and rubbing her cock all over Kyrie’s face. The princess finally relented to the battering ram, opening her mouth as wide as she could and positioning it just so. When Reva moved again, the head all but filled her mouth, tickling her throat.

Kyrie could scarcely breath for a moment, her heart beginning to thump-thump with panic over the meaty cock obstructing her airway. The taste on her tongue soon caught up to primal instinct, though. It was even better than licking. She moaned around it and gathered her courage, trying to push more of it down and resisting the urge to spit it out.

The vibrations from Kyrie’s moaning shivering up Reva’s cock were just enough to push her over. As tempting as it was to try and ram herself down Kyrie’s throat, she wanted the princess to remember every bit of her first taste of centaur cock. “Get the tip on your tongue,” she growled huskily, anticipation in her voice.

Kyrie wanted to swallow it right down her throat too, but she was determined to be obedient after the cockslaps. She pulled it back, closing her eyes and running her hands along the meaty shaft. Though her arms ached from the effort, she felt like she could keep it going forever. Her eyes flared wide open in surprise when the first spurt of hot centaur cum touched her tongue, like… she couldn’t even begin to describe how heavenly it was. It was all she could focus on even as Reva gave in to her primal urges and thrust to fuck her princess’ face, grunting and panting as the rest of her sticky mess went straight down Kyrie’s stomach. 

Kyrie’s fingers fell away from Reva as she began to feel faint, desperate pleasure overwhelming her body. For the centaur’s part, cumming in the object of a long unrequited lust made her feel darkly glorious, and she began to step back from Kyrie, freeing her cock from the warm and wet confines of the princess’ mouth, not quite done yet. She battered Kyrie’s face again with her long cock, the wet slap forcing a keening squeal from the crown princess as her body experienced its first orgasm in such a rough and humiliating way; pushed right over the edge by sucking cock and then getting slapped with it. Her vision went black as the intensity proved too much for her, and she collapsed backwards.

Reva relished in the sadistic pleasure, one last rope spraying from her cock as she snorted victoriously. She had no way to aim herself, but was pleased to see that when she stepped back and looked down, Kyrie’s face was splattered with the proof of her conquest. One of her hands roamed up to pinch and tease her hard nipples as she admired the way her seed clung to the panting princess’ eyelashes and almost highlighted her golden hair. 

She wasn’t done with the princess yet.


	3. The Chapter With Smut pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: this story is already completed and consists of roughly 22k words. I'll be posting a chapter a day until I've posted them all, so be sure to subscribe, join my Discord or follow me on Twitter if you want the updates as they happen. You can find the links on my profile or in the end of work notes. Enjoy!

Kyrie groaned as consciousness returned to her, sore like a carriage struck her yet warm and fuzzy throughout her body. The wet heat in her pussy and on her thighs turned her thoughts immediately towards getting struck by that carriage again. She stirred her body and found it difficult to move.

No… she couldn’t move. Was she restrained? Her eyes slowly opened, blue and bleary. One had a little more difficulty than the other. There was something sticky all over that side of her face, and it smelled heavenly. The stable wall was before her, as were her arms, wrists bound together and tied to something above her. She realized she was bent over something -- a sawhorse, though she didn’t know the word for it. Her tits were pressed down against it and her ass was thrust far out behind her, vulnerable.

A small panic started to thump her heart anew, even as her body reacted with horny need. What was happening? 

Her movements drew her captor’s attention. “Tell me,” they drawled as she felt them stroke along her back, like a master and a cat, “who a good bitch is. Tell me who a good little akhina is, Your Highness,” they mocked, slapping her still red ass with the cruel use of her royal title. Her panic subsided with Reva’s voice, feeling safe at once, if a bit confused. What was going on again and why was she talking about..

Oh! Kyrie’s heart soared as her memory caught up to the present. She had wanted more. Had she earned it now?

The Crown Princess grinned sunnily, a pure and innocent smile loved throughout the empire by all her subjects. Their opinion might have changed in this very moment if they could see it now, flustered red with sluttish excitement and stained white with the proof of her sucking cock. Debauched and plainly proud to have shown Reva’s cock the respect it deserved.

“I’m a good bitch,” she answered, arching her back and presenting both her unspoiled asshole and flooded virgin pussy to the centaur behind her. “I’m a good little akhina.” She was so cheerful about it, though all that happy emotion was hidden by how hoarse the throat-fucking had left her voice. Was Reva going to touch her like that again now?

“That’s right,” the redheaded centaur crooned, and Kyrie bubbled all the more at the approval. “Now beg for my cock like the good little bitch that you are.” That gave the blonde bitch pause, and she craned her neck to try and look over her shoulder at Reva.

“You have a chicken?” Kyrie asked, with no small amount of confusion.

Reva could only stare at the princess’ cum-painted face in shocked silence. “How,” she finally asked, “are you such a stupid bimbo?”

Kyrie could only blink her eyes, not yet comprehending the question. She tried to glance around, but Reva put an end to her search for this supposed chicken by grabbing the joking remains of her previously elegant ponytail, yanking her hair hard. “Tell me,” Reva growled as she stepped just short of into position over Kyrie, “how much of a stupid bitch you are. Tell me that the only thing you’ll ever be good for is my cock, or this ends here.”

“Please,” the princess gasped, quick to obedience once more. “I’m a stupid bitch, Rev--”

Her words cut off with a much harsher slap across her rump. “Mistress,” Reva corrected tersely, and jerked Kyrie’s hair once again.

Tears welled in Kyrie’s eyes from her blurred pleasure and pain. “Please, mistress,” she begged properly this time. “I’m a stupid bitch. I’m only good for your cock, mistress, please,” she keened, and was rewarded by something hot and hard starting to press against her much smaller pussy, desperately wet.

“Oh,” Kyrie gasped. “Ohhh, no. Ohhhh.” In some fuzzy part of her mind, it finally clicked to her that ‘cock’ didn’t mean ‘chicken’ at all, but the meaty scepter she had already developed such love and affection for. What else could Reva have between her legs that would be so big? Everything told her that it was far too large for where it was going. “It’s too big,” she whined piteously, the low noise in her throat becoming a drawn-out moan. She spread her hips as far as she could in her confined position, pressing her body down against the sawhorse as though it might help. 

It didn’t hurt, but her entire world was enveloped by the size of the cock in her and the shock that it was /fitting/.

It was no shock to Reva, who knew full well how centaur cum affected the women of other races. Ingesting it always prepared their bodies for what would follow. She grunted in satisfaction as she tore through the princess’ virginity and proceeded to claim inch by inch of her half-amazon pussy. Each moment she was inside Kyrie, the princess’ moaning grew louder, almost frantic by the time the once-untouched orifice held as much as it could take.

Kyrie stopped feeling full and started feeling complete, as though she had been given something she desperately needed but never knew existed. A new shiver ran up her spine as Reva growled in all her lusty glory, and her thighs trembled as the cock began to pull back out, fighting the way Kyrie’s pussy clung to it. “Who owns you?”

“You do, mistress…!” With that confirmation, Reva thrusted back inside and filled Kyrie again. The princess’ words cut off with a scream as she came again, as easy as that, her whole body shuddering and convulsing with the force of her second-ever orgasm. Though Kyrie felt boneless and was ready to spill forward, her bindings and Reva’s hand in her hair kept her in the same position. 

The centaur reveled in it, palming her breast as she laid the princess bare for the whore she had always been. As Kyrie’s scream pitched off raggedly, Reva began to truly rut her without any semblance of mercy or care to let her recover from one orgasm. Every other thrust soon had the blonde wracked by another series of convulsions, the rest of her world fading away in favor of what was plowing away inside her.

“I love it!” she squealed of her own volition, voice almost a wail from the ceaseless assault on her pussy. “I love your cock, mistress!”

The twitching and spasming of Kyrie’s pussy threatened to milk Reva empty, but the knight had found her discipline once more after losing it and getting into this situation: ruining the woman she was assigned to protect for any lesser cock by teaching her a lesson. Until that lesson was over, she wouldn’t let herself cum again. She growled a new command to Kyrie, the cum-drunk princess crying it out without stopping to consider it, eyes wrenched shut.

“Please, mistress! Take your akhani’s ass!”

Smirking, the proud new mistress truly emptied Kyrie and ignored her piteous cries, noises that soon faded to labored panting. She shifted herself and pressed, gliding over Kyrie’s pussy on her first attempt and then sliding up her asscheeks on the second. On her third attempt, she managed to properly spear the princess’ asshole with her mammoth cock, giving her ample reason to scream out to her gods, her eyes shooting back open with the pained cry.

It was so different from having her pussy ravished, and it hurt like fire, and she never wanted it to be put out even as her voice gave out from all the screaming she had been doing. It clung so much tighter and warmer. Reva couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to fuck if her cock wasn’t already drenched from Kyrie’s other hole. The princess was soon cumming all over again, only able to let out a raw gasp instead of her prior screams. 

It was finally too much for Reva to carry on. She would finish giving her lesson.

Kyrie could scarcely think anymore when she felt Reva leave her ass, one part of her glad for the reprieve while the rest of her felt terribly empty. She made a muted but girlish noise of surprise when the rope binding her wrists were cut in twain. Before she had a chance to take stock of the situation, she was being plucked up like a possession again and flipped around, planted on her back over the sawhorse, just wide enough to support her position, her head hanging off the edge.

She couldn’t help but gasp when Reva stepped over her and plopped her wet meat between the princess’ very generous endowments. “Put it between your tits,” her mistress barked, near at her limit. “And lift your legs, slut.”

Amazons were natural athletes and gymnastics were as simple as walking to them. Even in her state, Kyrie could effortlessly keep her balance while shifting her hips and bringing her legs up, feet pointed at the ceiling. They were shaking, and for a moment she was worried she might disappoint her mistress when they fell down, but Reva wrapped an arm around them and kept them upright.

Once the princess enveloped Reva’s hardness with her plush tits, the centaur began to fuck her cleavage with the same roughness she treated her best friend’s virgin ass and pussy. It was a demeaning position, with Reva’s hefty sack slapping Kyrie’s face every time the centaur thrusted. 

It would be demeaning for most people, anyway. Jolts of pleasure shot through Kyrie’s core each time they impacted, and she frankly felt sedated and at peace, previously unknown needs well sated.

Reva snorted loudly when she was finally ready to cum, stomping back and spraying cum with wild abandon over Kyrie’s perfect, supple flesh, marking her belly and breasts as well as her face again. The glazed cum would mark her property, and no one would question it. She stepped back and tossed her wild red hair, glaring down at her handiwork proudly. The princess, humbled at last.

That pride slipped from her face once post-nut clarity began to sink in. She was Kyrie’s bodyguard. What had she just done…? Not only would this shame her clan, it might very well be the end of them. There was no way the king would suffer this indignity, and Kyrie…

She had betrayed Kyrie.

Horror began to replace that lost pride as Kyrie stirred from her stupor, hands absently brushing up her belly and smearing the proof of Reva’s disgrace into her royal skin. “Kyrie,” she began, unsure of what to say, and scarcely able to move when the princess began to slip off the sawhorse.

But the cum-coated blonde princess landed on her hands and knees with the grace of a cat, stretching out and beaming her precious, thoroughly debauched smile up at Reva, starting to crawl her way across the dirty stable stall to go right back under the centaur. There was only love on her face. “I’m your stupid bitch, mistress,” she replied, still breathless and raw and as horny as hell. “Can I show your cock the respect it deserves again? Please?”

How could she say no?

An hour and a half later, Reva curled her legs beneath herself and held the exhausted Kyrie close to her, marveling at how beautiful the princess was after being so well-used by her. And, admittedly, at her own luck. Who would imagine something like this happening?

And it would certainly happen again. She just had to make sure her lovely akhani understood this all had to be a secret. Kyrie nuzzled her face in close to her, breathing Reva’s scent deep and relaxing in the warmth of her fur and flesh. “I love you, Reva,” she murmured.

“I love you too, Kyrie.” She wouldn’t have the princess any other way now.


	4. Making Her Mine

Life went on. Within days of taking her virginity, Reva began sleeping in Kyrie’s room. To better perform her duties in guarding her royal person, of course. It didn’t strike anyone as strange. They were known to be best friends and were women of vastly different species anyway, so it wasn’t as though anything improper would happen.

Neither woman divulged Reva’s other duty, the real reason she was in there: to keep her horny royal bitch well-fucked, so she might go to bed every night with her mistress’ cum in her belly, if not her cunt or ass (or often all three). 

Of course, the centaur would break any bed she mounted, so she ordered a custom one from her homeland, sturdy and box-like beneath its mattress and furs. She would fold her hindlegs atop it and leave her front hooves on the floor, and simply ease off when it was time to get up.

That didn’t strike anyone as strange either. Had anyone been more curious and inspected it, they would find the ‘frame’ of the bed was really a cage with a hidden hole in its roof, positioned just so for a centaur’s unsheathed cock. They were common for the tribes and allowed akhina to attend to their cock-related duties without getting in the way. 

It gave Reva plenty of time to read or tend to her weapons without a cock-hungry Kyrie getting in the way. The royal slut loved to slip under there when people would come looking for her, and on more than one occasion she came on Reva’s cock while the centaur was chatting with the servants cleaning the room.

Really, Reva was proud of Kyrie. She had been worried at first that the spoiled princess could ruin everything, but she fell into her submissive place perfectly; her mistress did not need to explain that Reva decided when she was an akhina, and when she was a princess.

  
  


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“You said that if I completed the ritual, I could ride you. I completed the ritual, so let me ride you for the parade.” Kyrie had that stubborn look in her eyes again. The two of them were in a private training chamber beneath the castle, well-lit and heated by braziers in each corner with sand strewn across the wooden floor. A few pieces of plush furniture were off to one side, for observers or resting between exercises and bouts.

Reva had never explained to Kyrie that there wasn’t really a ritual.. Centaurs simply didn’t let anyone who wasn’t their akhani ride on their back, and even then that was to show their property off, not for pleasure. There was a ritual in the sense that Kyrie was now her akhani, sure.

“It doesn’t work that way, Kyrie.” Reva replied as they circled one another, a padded wooden stave in one hand. The runes enchanting the princess’ wooden training sword glowed pale blue. She held it in a clumsy, one-handed grip, though at least she was comfortable in her tight leather ‘armor’ given to her by the Queen; amazons opted for freedom of movement over protection. Kyrie was effectively wearing a bra, a skirt-like loincloth that bared her thighs, knee-high boots and elbow gloves, most of her fair skin on display. Her hair was tied back in her preferred ponytail, more practical for sparring than intricate. 

Just the way Reva liked it, honestly.

“Well, why not?” the princess frowned, narrowing her eyes and shifting her hips tellingly. As she sprung forward to slam the blunt blade down, Reva was already stepping to the side. Sand scattered up and the floor cracked with the impact. Kyrie yowled with surprise as the flooring splintered upwards, abandoning the blade in favor of protecting herself from it with flailing hands. Amazons could be frightfully strong with adrenaline pumping through their veins, and without the weakening enchantment on the sword the damage could have been far worse. In most circumstances, Kyrie was simply an eighteen year old girl who hadn't worked a day in her life.

Reva turned about, twisting her stave around before whipping it out in a low and lazy arc. It hit the surprised princess’ ankle, lifting her foot from the ground and sending her flailing to the floor. She moaned and groaned in equal parts pain and consternation. As she lay flat on her back, she pounded her fist on the wood beneath her with childish frustration. “Every time,” she whined. “You dodge every time.”

The centaur just snorted, hooves carrying her closer to where the princess laid on her back. As Kyrie started to sit up, Reva pushed the bottom of the stave against her chest and nudged her back down flat. “Of course I dodge every time. Your footwork is like an open book.” It was also the same move Kyrie used the first time they sparred, when the princess managed to take her by surprise and win. She wasn’t about to take it again, especially not given the new status quo at play. A familiar smell tickled the centaur’s nostrils, and she looked more closely at the princess as she continued.

“If you ride my back, you will do so as my akhani. That means nude, with only the jewelry I wish you to be seen in.” Moisture gleamed on the inside of Kyrie’s thigh. Exasperated by what she knew she was about to find, Reva lifted her stave and used it to lift the front flap of her leather loincloth, pushing Kyrie’s thighs apart with it afterward. “You are not riding naked in a parade.” This was the third time she had caught Kyrie without panties, which was getting to be a problem. The area around her pussy had swelled red with her arousal, its lips dewy with further proof of her current need; without her panties, only some wispy golden hair guarded it. Scant protection.

“Didn’t we talk about this?” Reva asked her now exposed bitch patiently, punctuating the question with a little whap of the stave’s bottom to her thigh. It made Kyrie grunt out, though the princess soon bit her bottom lip and grinned up at Reva in spite of it. The innocence in her eyes was natural, and in a way true. She didn’t understand how improper their new relationship was.

Spreading her knees wider, Kyrie lifted her hips and pressed herself right up against the stave that had just whapped her, grinding herself against the firm leather padding. “Your bitch just wants to be ready for you, mistress,” she bubbled in the midst of her lewd self-pleasure, sure that just like the last time, Reva was about to fuck her with her beautiful horse cock and leave her leaking. When her knight said ‘there would be consequences’ to going commando again, she thought they would be fun consequences.

Reva tossed the stave aside with a grunt, eyeballing Kyrie for several seconds before snorting and motioning before herself with a snap of her fingers and a point at the rest area. The royal bitch perked, then rolled to her belly and pushed up to her hands and knees, crawling on them before her mistress as she had been trained, making sure to wiggle her hips and give Reva plenty to look at as they crossed the room.

“Up,” the knight grunted once they reached one of the lounging chairs, high enough that she could fuck her bitch either on her back or on her stomach; she already had several times now. She grabbed her bag (no one dared acknowledge it was a saddlebag) and fetched a few things from it, using the rope to bind Kyrie’s wrists to the legs of the chair and doing the same to her ankles after spreading her legs.

The blindfold was new, and Kyrie’s blue eyes shone bright with curiosity before it covered them, her hips subtly squirming with anticipation. Now she didn’t dare move or say a word unprompted, the nearness of a hard fuck ensuring her best behavior.

But… It was taking so long. Her ears strained to follow Reva where her eyes no longer could. The centaur had stepped away, and it sounded like she was dragging something back with her. She drew in a deep breath as her mistress finally neared. There was something crackling.. fire. One of the braziers?

“From now on,” Reva growled, “keep yourself shaved. Whenever I catch a hair growing down here,” she continued as she splashed Kyrie’s eager pussy with water, “I’ll lash you. Once for each hair.”

The cold impact was sudden and unexpected, making the princess gasp out. “Yes, mistress.” She held carefully still as she felt the cold steel of a razor begin to glide over her pelvis, soon leaving her bare. A single slip or squirm and Reva might cut her; however small the danger, it made her nipples tighten all the more.

When she was bare, Reva passed over her with a cloth that renewed Kyrie’s squirming, confident now that the fucking she had earned was imminent. Her toes curled as the centaur stepped into position and her meaty cock against Kyrie’s sopping entrance. Her fingernails dug into her palms, and she whined out as Reva began to tease her by pushing it back and forth over her lips, but never in.

“What do you want, akhani?” Reva prompted, pinching her nipple and looking sidelong at the metal brand heating up in the brazier.

“Your cock, mistress,” Kyrie obediently and earnestly begged. “More than anything. Please give me your cock, mistress!”

“If you want my cock right now, you must swear to never again disobey me when I tell you to wear something.” It was exactly what Reva had said last time. Her tone was a cruel cooing, a mockery of gentle and understanding. “I know my bitch is stupid and just forgot, so we’re going to make sure you don’t ever forget again.”

That rang in Kyrie’s ears like a promise, and she was eager to breath out, “Yes, mistress. Your stupid bitch won’t disobey you again, so please fuck me… oh. Ohhhh.” She didn’t expect Reva to go for her ass instead of her pussy, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Mixed pain and pleasure shot through her body as her tight ring was spread wide against its will, her insides deeply grateful that the invader was well-coated in her juices from the teasing.

“What do we say?” Reva prompted as she reached for the brand, snorting in satisfaction at how Kyrie clenched around her, trying to relax and often tightening right back up.

“Thank you, mistress!” Kyrie cried out. “Thank you for your cock-- AHH!” Her thanks were cut off as Reva pressed the brand just right over her pussy, the red hot iron less than an inch from her clit. She might have expected more cold water after the splash, but something that hot burning her was the extreme opposite. She howled out in agony and began to thrash desperately to get away from it, but the ropes held her fast as the metal seared her flesh. 

Having the monstrous member in her ass always made Kyrie scream once Reva got going, but this was something else; her fingernails dug all the harder into her palms for their inability to do anything else, scratching them bloody as she wailed out like a wounded animal.

“That’s not what we say,” Reva’s authoritative voice cracked out like a whip, cutting through the scream and the blinding pain, snapping her into focus. “What do we say?” The cock Kyrie loved so much reached her depths and began to pull out, ready to thrust again. It gave her something to concentrate on. Something that wasn’t whatever cruel torture her mistress was subjecting her to.

“Thank you, mistress,” she cried out rawly. “Thank you for your cock, mistress. I love your cock! Thank you, mistress!” The litany helped. She kept uttering it with increasing desperation as Reva plowed her ass, everything mixing together until all Kyrie could feel was forever mounting bliss.

The chain of orgasms only ended when the shuddering of Kyrie’s body drove the centaur knight to fill her royal slut’s ass with her cum, and as she grunted it out she tossed the brand aside, no longer needed.

Kyrie went truly boneless as her favorite thing in the world left her ass empty but for its drippings, panting. Her skin and lean musculature shone with the sweat her panic, the pain and the rough assfucking brought out of her. Light came back to her black world as Reva removed the blindfold and removed the ropes on her wrist. She stared up blankly as the centaur smiled down at her, holding a mirror up for Kyrie that was pointed down, revealing what had been done to her.

Her breath caught in her throat, as much as she needed it in that moment. Seared black into her flesh was a lovely and ornate heart, wreathed like a royal banner. The brutish runes in its center were a harsh contrast, but Kyrie knew what they spelled out. R E V A.

“It’s beautiful,” Kyrie managed, her voice hoarse. The happy tears were already rolling down her cheeks. She would never disobey her mistress again.


	5. Parade Day

Once Reva saw the parade armor that had been prepared for her, she decided Kyrie could ride her after all. Her human body would look the proper part of a knight, clad in platemail sans only a helmet; the knight’s hair would fall free behind her to enjoy the wind and the crowds would see the beautiful profile of her face. 

The long barding that would hide most of her horse half didn’t thrill her, but the possibilities did. She couldn’t get through explaining her plan to Kyrie without the princess begging Reva to fuck her right then and there. They had, of course.

Reva had been sent to guard Kyrie before she could join her first raid, so she didn’t have the hoard of jewelry a true centaur warrior would decorate their akhani with… but she had inherited her uncle’s several years ago after he died in battle. She didn’t dream of having an akhani in a human city at the time.

Not a stitch or thread would be on the princess’ body, of course. Her forearms would be graced with silver bangles, some lined with charms that meant nothing to them but everything to their former owners. A single anklet bearing a ruby would grace her right ankle, with the left kept undecorated. Silver chains once used for necklaces would lace her body like a harness, and she would wear a hip-slung belt of beautiful crystal belts. More but smaller, gentler silver chains would be woven into her braided hair, emeralds and sapphires attached to them spotting her hair like stars.

Kyrie’s favorite two pieces were the simple black slave collar and the plug that would keep her ass filled all throughout, a wondrous diamond worked into its stopper. Reva certainly shared her fondness for the latter.

  
  


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The day of the parade was everything anyone could want from it, with not a cloud in sight. Thousands of commoners lined the cleared streets, cheering as the Cesta Empire’s heroes and luminaries passed them, their clamor failing to drown out the marching bands playing the empire’s anthem.

The queen was at the head of the parade, lounging on a palanquin lofted by four of her all-amazon honor guard. Anywhere else in the civilized world, the queen’s actions and garb would be considered scandalous, but the people of the empire truly loved it. 

Reva wished she could see what was making the group gasp and whoop, but Kyrie’s carriage was a ways down the line; her centaur bodyguard pulled it along, while an honor guard of eight paladins rode alongside them. Most assumed the princess was inside the carriage, that she was the silhouette of the waving woman they could see through its obtuse windows. The common people cried out for her, thanking her for small acts of kindness she had performed for them, if not larger charitable work she had put into motion.

Reva smirked. The woman in the carriage was paid to be there, and to hurry off once the parade ended.

Kyrie, on the other hand, had been secured with her belly pressed to Reva’s centaur underbelly. It wasn’t the ride she had in mind, but it was one she was enthusiastically enjoying, though no one could hear it through the gag in her mouth. Her arms and legs were securely bound at the top of Reva’s fore and hindlegs, and if she liked feeling a horse between her legs before…

Well, she certainly preferred being strung up beneath a centaur now, her tits mashed into Reva’s warm fur. She constantly nuzzled her face against it, feeling so safe and secure in such close proximity to her protector. And each powerful step of her mistress’ body drove jolts of pleasure through her body; with her legs spread so in her position, there was only one place for Reva’s cock to be. Not her own sheath, but the tight sheath Kyrie’s pussy proved to be. 

In Kyrie’s cock-filled world, the people crying out to her were really just cheering her on to cum again and again and again, and she loved them for it as much as she loved them. She wished she could show them how wonderful being fucked by Reva was, but for today? It was enough that it was happening just out of sight.

Not a soul noticed the spots of femcum and centaur spunk on the road left in their wake, freshly dripped from Kyrie’s royal pussy.


	6. Keeping the Peace pt. 1

Kyrie was glowing.

_No, not glowing,_ Reva corrected herself. Glowing was the word humans used for pregnant women, Though Kyrie’s already prodigious rack had swelled since Reva began feeding her mouth and pussy daily doses of centaur cum. It was a small side effect of her potent spunk, but one they were both pleased with. Centaurs did not have dainty hands and they certainly didn’t have dainty dicks, so it made groping and titfucking all the better. 

She supposed on some level, Kyrie’s back might have a problem with it… but really, she was well and truly Reva’s akhani now, which meant her first responsibility was being Reva’s bitch on command, whenever and wherever the centaur might want to take her.

Then again, Kyrie was sometimes capable of frightening strength, so maybe her back was just fine. Reva decided not to dwell on it.

Having the Crown Princess impaled on her mammoth horse cock during a parade? Her body convulsing in orgasm just out of sight from the populace, scarcely hidden by the barding on Reva’s armor? It changed things even more than seducing Kyrie had in the first place.

She still told herself it had been seduction. It all worked out for the best, anyway, and Kyrie smiled when Reva explained ‘the trick’ she had played, giggling and grinning. If she had any complaints about it, she left them unvoiced in favor of getting on her knees to tongue-bathe Reva’s cock and balls five minutes later.

You could say they descended into new depths of debauchery, but that would make it sound like a bad thing.  _ New heights,  _ Reva decided.

And that was the thing, she supposed. Kyrie wasn’t glowing. 

Among her people, centaur cum was known to bring out the best in women… any woman from any race, really. Most female centaurs sported cocks of their own, and pregnancies were rare for their race. That was the importance of akhani, of having a harem. Fucking more women meant more chance of continuing the tribe.

Not that she was concerned about continuing her tribe. She had to remind herself that her true duty was protecting her loyal, royal bitch. At the moment, the centaur was lounging on her custom bed in the princess’ chambers. She lowered the book she was reading and glanced off to the side and down, where the precious jewel of the Cesta Empire was having her midnight snack, wearing naught but her black leather collar, studded with gold and sapphires.

Its tag read  **HER ROYAL BITCHNESS** .

Kyrie’s golden hair was too voluminous to go in a bun; it was always put in a long, long braid by her maids before the princess retired for night, thick and trailing down her back. Its very tip hung over the lifted curve of her ass. Reva snorted softly. The way it had ended up /almost/ covering the rear view of her pussy and asshole was almost comical, like underwear too thin to cover her.

She watched the hypnotic sway of Kyrie’s bubbly ass, her lapping tongue and soft moans of enjoyment mixing with the crackling fireplace to make for pleasant ambience. They had tried a bowl the other week for Kyrie’s midnight snack, but it turned out Reva came far too much for it to ‘just’ fill a bowl. She preferred this sight, though, the Empire’s luminary with her face down in a tiny horse trough, happily licking up fresh cum.

Yes, Kyrie wasn’t glowing. The bed creaked as Reva half-bent, slapping the princess’ ass with enough force to jolt her forward, which meant face-first into her snack with a yelp of surprise. As the fair-skinned princess lifted her glazed and dripping face, Reva grabbed her braid and gave it a rough tug.

“Here, bitch,” Reva drawled, casual in her degradation of her sworn charge. “Come get it from the tap.”

The way Kyrie’s face lit up under the cum painting it was radiant. That was it. She dared to swipe a bit of her favorite delicacy off her lips with her tongue and tried to blink clinging spunk from her blonde eyelashes, looking up at the woman who just casually shoved her face in baby batter with nothing but utter adoration and devotion. “Where do you want your bitch to have it, mistress? In her mouth, in her pussy or in her ass?”

Kyrie wasn’t glowing. Debauchery made Kyrie radiant, and each day their perversions grew. “Your ass.”

Giggling with girlish glee in anticipation of a hard anal plowing, the once pristine princess crawled under Reva’s bed once more.

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Count Varled of House Lanse and Countess Monessa of House Arek were not on speaking terms, which was exactly why the two of them were sitting alone in a small room. The silence was tense enough that you could cut it like butter, and their mutual agitation was hot enough that it might burn whatever it melted on. 

It was a diplomatic incident just waiting to blow up, to start a war that none of their peasants would care to be drafted for. Not just because it would be senseless violence, but because the harvest was just around the corner; the respective demesnes of the lords made up for a significant amount of the capital’s grain. People would starve.

Resolving the situation would require a skillful touch, a natural arbitrator and diplomat who could empathize with both sides and make them humanize their rival in the room, when both of their fathers had been sworn enemies. Sworn enemies that dealt mortal blows to one another in a completely unnecessary duel, leaving their children the youngest land owners in the empire.

Yes, it was a sticky situation.

That someone was Princess Kyrie of House Cesta, which would shock anyone who didn’t know the princess’ reputation. One popular story around the capital told of how the King’s economic minister grew flustered in negotiations with the dwarves and had to leave the room, wracked with nerves that he wouldn’t be able to secure access to vital dwarven steel for the army.

When he returned, eight year old Kyrie was sitting at the table, smiling serenely as the dwarves weeped in shame, reminded how over four centuries ago a Cesta king died defending the dwarves from an orcish invasion for no greater reason than he felt compassion for their plight; they had both suffered great losses to draconic raids the prior year, though it left the dwarves so much more vulnerable.

They had more dwarven steel than ever. So the story went, anyway. Both Varled and Monessa were of an age with Kyrie and had lived in their family’s lands until a few years ago; both of them considered the princess a friend, though they hadn’t seen her for several months. The two had been called back home to deal with the border dispute.

Varled, fair-skinned and tall, dark & handsome in the most classic sense, sighed not out of exasperation or annoyance for waiting as long as they had to for Kyrie’s arrival, but because he knew it would rankle Monessa. 

The Lady of House Arek shot a glare across the table, quick to tip up her chin and look away. He smirked in satisfaction and sat back, folding his arms over his chest as he stared at the object of his ire.

Monessa was average in only one way, her height. She was otherwise a lovely specimen of womanhood, her skin fetchingly pale and beautifully contrasted by her long, dark hair, styled into a crown braid lined with delicate silver ornaments. Everything about her face oozed femininity, from the naturally sultry cast of her amber eyes to her full lips, something her subtly seductive expression often hinted at.

_ What a slut.  _ Varled suspected she spent hours in front of a mirror each day practicing them. He considered her dress to be further evidence of that, whorish red with a deep slash of cleavage that bared the curves of her full breasts. For a meeting with Princess Kyrie, of all people! She could stand to be more like the pure princess, who just so happened to be entering the room now.

His eyebrows shot up. Monessa’s eyebrows shot up, though she recovered quicker than Varled. He cursed in his head as he rose to match the countess’ curtsy with a bow, plastering on a tight smile.

“No need to be formal,” Kyrie assured them with a sunny smile. “We’re all friends here.” She was certainly dressed like she was meeting friends!

They both knew Kyrie from social calls, parties and formal occasions, and neither of them had seen so much as a hint of leg or chest; she always dressed conservatively, fitting her innocent and wholesome nature. Not that she had done anything to /be/ less innocent and wholesome in the moments she’d been in the room.

It was just difficult to ignore someone like Kyrie wearing traditional amazon attire, or at least a facsimile of it. The halter imprisoning her hefty tits was barely more than a bra; an amazon would wear leather, but hers was blue silk that matched her eyes, thin gold chains strung along the bottom drawing attention to the attractive span of her flat belly. Her belt was made of golden medallions strung together, holding up a sheer pink sarong that did little to hide her lean thighs or her bubbly rump. The amazons considered it a full bottom garment when worn with particularly ass-clinging panties.

It really wasn’t, but the Queen’s preferences made it acceptable wear for women all over, though few noblewomen dared for it.

“As you’d like, Kyrie,” Monessa said with a small smile, almost sly. Varled hated her voice. It was alway so suggestive, just dripping with lusty promises. 

“Indeed,” Varled cleared his throat. “Is it, ah, an amazon holiday?” He felt stupid the moment he said the question.

“No. Their next holiday is in three weeks..” Kyrie blinked her big blue eyes at Varled, who looked aside sheepishly and caught Monessa taking the opportunity to eye the princess’ tits with base jealousy. He couldn’t help but grin, fighting it down to a smile as it clicked for Kyrie why he might ask that.

“Just a gift from my mother. We’re having tea this afternoon,” the princess explained, clapping her hands together cheerfully. As if on cue, a maid wheeled in a serving cart behind her with a ready tea service, setting it up near the table and departing.

*****-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-*****

Kyrie loved her friends! She truly loved them. She loved every subject of the Empire with her whole heart, unreservedly. 

Gods help her, though, because Kyrie was bored out of her mind listening to their litany of complaints and grievances with one another. As it turned out, the least of their frustrations was the mutual ‘my father killed your father’. Most of them were terribly personal, with matters of governance, like the very real crisis the capital might face if they began fighting, minimized. 

It was like they didn’t even know that their great grandfathers were storied brothers-in-arms who had sworn eternal friendship between their bloodlines one hundred and twenty three years ago! Ridiculous. The anniversary would be tomorrow; the only reason they didn’t celebrate it was because Monessa’s mother spilled wine on not on Varled’s uncle, but his uncle’s favorite dog, spiraling into their current state of affairs. 

It did not occur to Kyrie that few people soaked up cultural information and historical fact like she did. It did not occur to her that fewer people could recall such detail in granular detail, and it certainly did not occur to her that almost nobody else could so effortlessly use that detail.

Her talent bored her to death.

She sipped her tea with a small smile, letting her expression shade with just a hint of grave concern as Monessa blew off Varled’s tirade about a breast-baring wardrobe malfunction that happened almost a year ago at his birthday party, and how the Countess clearly mocked civil society with her choice of attire “that would make an amazon blush”.

That was also ridiculous; what Kyrie herself was wearing was considered prudish by their standards. She didn’t correct him or get offended by the comment, though. In truth, she wasn’t really paying attention anymore, making the appropriate expressions and noises to show they had her full attention while her mind wandered elsewhere. 

Her teacup clicked gently on its saucer as she turned towards Monessa, who ignored what Varled said entirely to dryly rip into his tendency to wear clashing colors. Absently, she ran her hand over the table’s surface, flat but for some decorative carving in the form of wreathing vines. She looked thoughtful and let out a well-timed ‘hm’, giving no indication to the bickering nobles that her mind was elsewhere, conjuring a scene in her mind’s eye. 

Not one of a drunk Monessa flashing Varled or one of Varled trying to match Monessa’s house colors with his outfit, of course. She found it hard to care about that. Didn’t they realize how infatuated they were for each other? Kyrie was sure anyone could see as much if they cared to look.

Just the other day, Reva pushed her down on a table just like this one. She smiled faintly at the memory with the idle confidence her friends were too focused on each other to notice it or consider it out of place.

They had both been in desperate need of release after wading through three hours of petitions, and Kyrie's chambers were at least ten minutes away in the sprawling castle. There were unused private dining rooms, though, and Reva was confident no one would take a late lunch there. Kyrie had been less certain, but she did as she was told, already peeling out of her dress as Reva closed the door.

The Kyrie of yesteryear would have struggled through that, often wearing garments designed to need a maid's help to get on or off. More and more, the new Kyrie, the Kyrie who considered herself Reva's fuckslut first and Crown Princess second, preferred to dress for her mistress' convenience. Her wardrobe was becoming much more revealing, and much easier to get off.

First Reva had her on her stomach, her tits pressed down against the wood each time the centaur pounded into her. On occasion, her mistress would lower her underbelly just so, pinning the half-amazon with just part of her weight. Her mistress knew exactly what her bitch liked when they were fucking; to feel small and powerless, to be a demeaned servant and not the princess.

Kyrie found herself wondering what it would be like to get pinned on this table, to have her tits pressed against the carvings as Reva used her like a good little akhina. Would it leave the vines imprinted on her breasts? The thought of seeing that in the mirror made her giggle. A moment later, she realized Monessa and Varled were staring at her. Oops.

She smiled at them, bright and apologetic. “Sorry. Please, go on.”

As the two resumed the argument -- who owned how much of a lake split across their lands or something -- Kyrie returned to her memory, so real to her that she could practically feel how wet she had been, between her own juices and the thicker cum Reva left in her. How after, Reva flipped her over and made her rub her sore, thoroughly fucked pussy to another orgasm…

Had Reva done that? 

_ Oh! _ Kyrie gave a start in her seat when she became all too aware that the wetness she felt was her own, that her hand had stolen below the table and between her legs, teasing over her clit and occasionally dipping between her wet folds. She froze, then reluctantly pulled her fingers away from the source of the hot, horny flare she felt coursing throughout her body. Reva had explained to her that as an akhina, she could only fuck herself on command.

It was also very much not the time to fingerfuck herself. She cleared her throat lightly, smiled for the two to continue when they looked at her, and went about sneaking a handkerchief under the table to clean off her fingers. As she did so, her mind wandered again.

After Reva had cummed (and after Kyrie had cummed several times, of course, all in her daydream), they got ready to go. Her mistress had noticed the tiny puddle of milk Kyrie’s tits had left on the table when she was getting pressed into it and barked at her bitch to clean it up.

Why, she could practically feel her milk leak out all over again…

…

_ Oh, no.  _ Kyrie glanced down at her top and the thin silk that cupped her breast, twin dark spots starting to spread. And while she knew she really should focus on Varled and Monessa for just a moment, she was supposed to go straight to her mistress whenever she needed to be milked.  _ What should I do? I need to leave.  _ But she also needed to solve this problem first.

Kyrie cleared her throat a bit more loudly and began to rise gracefully to her feet, smiling with genuine ease. “We shall reconvene tomorrow,” she declared, calling an abrupt end to the meeting. “Tonight, I would have you two dine together and discuss this more between yourselves.” Both Monessa and Varled stumbled over themselves to say goodbye first, with neither managing it before Kyrie calmly left the room, closed the door and began fleeing down the hall.

After a moment of silence, the two nobles began to argue over who would host the dinner, Kyrie all but forgotten in her flight.


	7. Keeping the Peace pt. 2

As the Crown Princess’ personal bodyguard, Reva was afforded certain privileges. Her own personal armory, for instance. Not that she needed much space beyond a weapon rack and a place to store her formal armor. It belonged to another knight before her; his furniture still sat in there, as she had never cared quite enough to have it removed. 

Reva didn’t need to be there to watch over Kyrie with Varled and Monessa, two harmless nobles. Confident that the palace guards could handle any problems that arose, she had settled in alongside the previous knight’s workbench to polish and sharpen her various weapons of war. 

It felt a bit silly. She really should have just gotten a workbench.

Actually, she was sure that it was a bit silly. A mirror dominated one wall, and she could full well see how silly it was. She looked like an adult sitting at a toddler’s table.  _ Not like anyone is going to see this, _ the centaur thought to herself with a shake of her head, her long red hair pulled up in a loose tail just for convenience’s sake. In another hour or so, she’d gather her things and head back to Kyrie’s room. The rest of the night? Something with her cock. She’d decide what later.

Reva’s head snapped up when the door creaked open, her eyes already narrowed. Nobody entered her armory. It was her private space, the one place she could get away from everything and just enjoy a bit of peace and solitude. Though she loved her bitch dearly, sometimes she needed a little respite from her along with every other human in the castle. Sometimes she just needed to be a centaur without worrying about their bullshit.

Her squire, maybe? She had set him up with a fool’s errand that morning to keep him out of her hair. Perhaps he managed to finish it, or realized what it was.

No. No, the golden head slowly peeking through the doorway was definitely her bitch. Reva snorted in exasperation and glanced down at her claymore, her work half finished. With the princess here, she was unlikely to complete it.

“Come in,” she grunted as she set aside her rag and propped the blade up against the wall. She turned and folded her arms under her bare breasts, frowning faintly as Kyrie moved tip toed ever so delicately into the room.  _ Better my bitch than my squire,  _ Reva thought to herself and then gave her head a little shake. There was probably a good reason for Kyrie being here, and it wouldn’t do to discourage her bitch’s good behavior.

_ That’s weird. _ Kyrie was wearing a guard’s cloak, her face flushed with… something Reva couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something was wrong. For a moment, her mind went to the worst, that there had been an attack while she was away, that some brave guard had the quick wit to disguise the princess and buy her time to steal away. Her frown grew and she started to rise, stopping just short of really moving her legs.

For one thing, there was a fair chance that any ordinary assassin attacking Kyrie would end up getting struck by a flailing or panicking princess and learn firsthand how strong she, and every other woman with amazon blood, was. Reva could picture a confused Kyrie trying to wake up the assassin after such an accident, though she wasn’t sure the princess was quite that naive… not that she was about to rule out the possibility. 

Secondly, Reva recognized the way Kyrie was almost panting, her bright blue eyes just a bit glassy in their lack of focus. The way the heir to the empire was subconsciously swaying her hips, standing with her thighs tight together. Kyrie wasn’t in any real danger.

Her bitch was a bitch in need, desperate for Reva’s cock to take over her world, and her bitch knew exactly what to do. First, she removed her cloak and dropped it to the side. 

_ Again? _ Exasperation bubbled up in Reva as she noticed the large dark splotches staining Kyrie’s top. She had just milked the bimbo last night, and she was already leaking again! Absolutely unbelievable. Not that she was going to complain, but Gods, it could get to be a problem. 

Kyrie almost hovered in place, waiting for Reva’s permission, her face flush with arousal. Reva half-turned herself and clicked her tongue. “Here, slut. Come here and get your milky tits dealt with.”

The royal bitch brightened up, the somewhat desperate look on her face cracked wide open by her beaming smile as she happily sank to her knees, crawling forth on soft, graceful hands that only knew one job in her young life, pleasuring her mistress’ cock. 

Reva began to properly rise then, her pride apparent in her smirk. Part of her loved Kyrie, of course, had loved Kyrie before any of this happened. There was another element to it now though, a feeling of superiority that came with having the future queen of the Empire a slave to her cock. She almost felt more dragon than centaur, the princess the clear prize of her abstract hoard. 

Could a centaur swagger? Not exactly, but Reva’s slight sway as she clopped forward a step was close enough. Her equine cock, now unsheathed, hung proudly as the akhina crawled beneath her mistress and rose to her knees, worshipfully kissing and cleaning the underside of her meaty cock. Her hands lifted to do the only job they knew, and from there Kyrie moved along to Reva’s weighty testicles, dotting them with kisses from her royal lips as she waited, lest she bring forth her mistress’ fury.

“Speak,” Reva grunted.

“Thank you, mistress.” Kyrie’s voice was hot and breathy, running her fingers over Reva’s furry underbelly in supplication. “Your bitch’s tits need to be emptied. She’s so full,” the princess moaned. Her fingers trailed back to Reva’s cock, cradling it like a holy object. “Please,” she begged, her lips back to Reva’s balls. In all her life, no one but Reva had ever been so cruel to her, so incredibly rude, treating her like something lower than a beggar. 

She loved it. 

Kyrie couldn’t see Reva fold her arms as she was, kneeling beneath her and peppering the centaur’s cock with affection. But she could hear the silence and she could feel her pussy grow wetter for it, grazing her fingers down to her mistress’ scrotum, treating them like a goblet of the gods’ wine. 

To her? They more or less were. Her pussy dripped and dripped on the floor, hungry for something to fill it.

“Please,” she whispered against them, not quite as desperate for relief from her milk-filled tits than she was to get fucked by Reva’s wonderful cock right afterwards. She wanted to empty her mistress’ hefty orbs straight into her. “Please, please, please, mistress. Please milk me.”

Reva finally grunted and then snorted, unfolding her arms. “Take off your top, come out and stand up,” she demanded, and her bitch was all too happy to scramble out, preening proud and straight with her mother’s gift practically ripped off in her haste to do as she was bid. The centaur reached out to heft one of Kyrie’s bared breasts in her hands, rough with a knight’s calluses, frowning down at the little white trail of milk dripping down her bitch’s royal tit.

“You obscene slut,” Reva sneered as she squeezed her slut’s full, needy tit. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than tend to a sow?” she demanded, squeezing the softness with malice. An ordinary person, a human, would only be able to cup the princess’ bosom, but they were perfect handfuls for Reva’s hands. Her forcefulness brought out a fresh trickle of milk. The centaur released it and flicked her wrist, slapping lightly across her bitch’s tit with a loud clap of hard flesh on soft.

It made Kyrie gasp out in aroused discomfort. Instead of flinching back from the strike she leaned forward after it, her hands unconsciously coming to rest flat on Reva’s well-defined abs; her fingers curled and her carefully manicured nails dug into her mistress’ skin when the centaur slapped her other tit. She felt no shame, only devotion, her eyes closing as she fell into a reverie, joyous to wait for what she would be given and eager for the reward she knew would be coming soon after.

“Well?” Reva barked at her, and Kyrie’s reverie shattered as her mistress seized her by the neck, her eyes flaring wide open in alarm as she felt her throat tighten, her breathing made so abruptly more difficult. Her heart thundered in her chest. Kyrie was not a small woman, but Reva made her feel tiny, made Kyrie feel the danger that she protected her from for years now. The royal bitch felt panic, but it was truly momentary and born from her surprise. 

If Kyrie’s mistress wanted her to gasp and rasp for breath, she would gladly fight for it, just as she would gladly do anything else Reva expected of her.

Besides, she was used to worse. Centaur cock did far more to obstruct her breathing than a hand around her throat, and she took that at least twice a day. Once before breakfast, once before bed, and usually one more time between, not to mention the times she took it in her whorish royal pussy or her bitch ass. Like her throat, they now existed for the joy of worshipping her mistress’ cock. Everything else was secondary.

All she could think of was her love for Reva. Reva’s cock. Reva’s cum. Was she saying something?

“Well, slut?” Reva asked, leaning her face in close to Kyrie’s. Her other hand grabbed her ass and she hoisted the Crown Princess into the air, pliant to her mistress’ wishes and dangling. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than milk you?” she asked with a devilish sneer, fully intending to tap the proverbial kegs in due time. Just not until she had rendered the woman she was honorbound to protect a mewling, helpless slut in terrible need.

It wasn’t quite reaching Kyrie, though, her eyelids low as she stared at the features of Reva’s face. Reva was her life now; when she slept, she dreamed of Reva while her cock softened in her ass or her cum oozed out of her pussy. When she closed her eyes and let her mind wander, she saw Reva’s cock and knew even if they were feet apart in public or separated by the breadth of the capital, it would be ready for her. 

And sometimes she saw Reva’s face, so close to hers. Sometimes she’d imagine Reva kissing her like she saw her mother kiss so many different people before, fierce and possessive like a conqueror laying claim. Claim over her fellow amazons, claim over whatever citizen caught her eye...

Her heart was still beating hard. These days, with her akhina duties, she was rarely face to face with Reva. Always beneath, always at her cock. But in that moment she knew what she wanted; she wanted it more than she wanted her cock or to have her tits milked.

“Mistress,” Kyrie tried to gasp, and Reva’s sneer faded, concerned that for once she might have gone too far. Concern took over the centaur’s lovely face as she let her grip loosen, though her fingers didn’t fall away. What would she do if she had fucked everything up?

“Oh, mistress,” Kyrie was breathless. She didn’t sound hurt, an immense relief to her mistress, her bodyguard, her chivalrous knight. Before Reva had a chance to do anything else, the princess pushed herself forward, swinging her hips up with an amazon’s natural athleticism. Her legs hooked up and over the centaur’s lower body, ankles crossing just where her horse and human halves separated. The future queen’s pussy drooled with need as she pressed it right against Reva’s muscular midsection, subconscious bucks grinding her against them for her own selfish pleasure; the hands that had been curled up against them prior shot up and over the centaur’s supple breasts and hard nipples, clasping behind Reva’s neck. She clung. 

All of this took place in the course of a moment. The hand Reva had on Kyrie’s throat was left empty and pushed aside, practically hanging in the air. Kyrie’s proud mistress was left in baffled silence at this sudden assertiveness by her bitch, who now had her face right up against hers. 

All in the course of a moment.

In the next, Kyrie was molding herself against Reva in a way that just felt  _ right _ to her, in a way that made her feel as complete as their first fuck did. Their breasts, fantasized over by so much of the capital’s residents, pushed together as Kyrie went to mold her face to Reva’s, too. The way their lips came together was like two halves finally meeting. 

Kyrie had kissed Reva dozens if not hundreds of times now, but never above her human waist. Always her cock, always her balls, always her underbelly. She was unfamiliar with what two mouths did to one another, and clumsy in trying to figure it out, yet so eager and full of love for it.

She didn’t want to conquer her mistress, though. She wanted to be conquered. For her part, the kiss was almost shy. Her mistress would do as she always did, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t she conquer Kyrie as she had so many times before?

Reva did not conquer Kyrie’s mouth, caught so far off guard that she returned the kiss in kind, shy and gentle in a mirror of how Kyrie attacked her. Something about it felt terribly perverse; the two fucked multiple times a day, and though Kyrie often and earnestly declared her love, it was never soft nor gentle. The princess was unmistakably Reva’s bitch, and Reva treated her in fitting fashion: demeaning, degrading, humiliating her.

Yet there they were, kissing like two innocent virgins exploring forbidden romance, unaware of the reality of sex.

One part of that, just how wrong it felt, made Reva acutely aware of how hard her cock had become. Kyrie was her first real fuck, and she treated her like the prostitutes who had sucked her centaur cock off before or used their tits to pleasure her. Months later, this was their first kiss. It had her red hot in the face, blushing in her fluster.

The other part of that, the audacity her bitch had in forcing this on her, made her seething mad. That was the part that led to it ending, to Reva’s hand grabbing Kyrie’s neck and practically prying her mouth off of Reva’s. The centaur’s nostrils flared over the indignity. “What,” she growled, “do you think you’re doing, you bird-brained bimbo?”

The kiss had affected Kyrie just as powerfully, of course, but where Reva was angry, Kyrie was elated. Her mouth hung slightly open, her eyes dreamy. Though she had wanted Reva to conquer her in the kiss, she felt utter bliss from what she had gotten. Her hips continued their slow grind against Reva’s toned stomach.

Her answers to these questions always reflected what she considered her true position, always demeaning herself as Reva’s bitch. This time, she was a little more honest. “Loving you,” she panted. 

“You stupid bitch,” Reva snapped back, words that would strike anyone else like a brick in the face. Kyrie knew that, but to her they were praise, confirmation that she was a good little akhina. Her dreamy smile was practically lovey-dovey now, eyes closing. The smile only broke when her eyes snapped open at Reva shoving her up against the wall.

“It’s not your job to love me,” Reva sneered. Oh, how Kyrie loved that sneer. The smooth, soft skin of the princess’ back was practically scrubbed against the wall as Reva pushed her up it, face about level with the princess’ heaving bosom. Though her leaking nipples had dried up, the evidence of her lactation was still there, plain as day, and her slutty nipples were clearly primed to give more.

“Yes, mistress,” Kyrie gasped, her legs squeezing around Reva’s torso. “It isn’t your bitch’s job to love you. Your bitch loves your cock so much,” she breathed out without prompting. Reva liked that. 

It didn’t make her any less angry, though. A bitter part of Reva wanted to send Kyrie out just like this, half-naked and wanton. Leaving her horny, spared a proper fucking, would be a true punishment. That part of Reva was overpowered by the part of Reva that loved her bitch’s milk.

“You’re never going to do that again,” Reva told Kyrie, green eyes glaring into blue ones before she lowered her head and locked her mouth around the princess’ royal tit, her hot tongue laving over Kyrie’s stiff nipple and lapping at what milk was already there waiting for her. 

As her mistress sucked, Kyrie finally slowed her grinding, sparing Reva from her belly getting any slicker with her wetness. She closed her eyes as well and sighed out, tilting her head back against the stone wall, her hair flattening out against it like a gold coronet. Though she was still anticipating the fucking she knew she had earned, sating her mistress’ thirst always made her feel serene.

Reva suckled away, her hand on Kyrie flattening on her shoulder instead of her neck. The taste of her bitch’s milk was indescribable, sweet in a way that almost tickled her tongue on its way through her mouth and down her throat. She was vaguely aware that the amazons were rumored to have divine bodies, and sometimes she thought that might be it, that her slut’s royal milk was truly godly. 

That thought did more to mend her ego than Kyrie’s begging.

When she had her fill from one tit, she went to the other, enjoying the way Kyrie’s hands scratched through her wild red hair to get at her scalp without dwelling on it. It happened every time. The first time, she got irate. Kyrie was  _ her  _ bitch, and if someone in their ‘relationship’ was going to be rubbing heads, it would be her. Yet it kept happening, with the royal bitch seemingly oblivious to her subconscious movements. Reva had come to like it. It was always a peaceful moment.

The peace ended when the centaur finished on the other nipple and left it, licking her lips and lifting her head, resting her brow against Kyrie’s. She once again wore the cruel sneer that Kyrie loved so much.

“So you like kissing now, akhina?” 

Kyrie bit her bottom lip and nodded, quickly remembering that a bitch like her was to respond properly and clearly. “Yes, mistress. Your bitch loves kissing.” Feeling brave, she said more. “Your bitch loves kissing. Please, mistress, kiss your bitch.”

That was exactly what Reva intended to do, though she wouldn’t show her intention on her face. “If you ever do something like that again, you won’t ever be kissed again. Do you understand that, akhina?” the ‘chivalrous’ knight growled. Her hand under Kyrie’s ass slid over. The princess gasped as she felt two fingers press against the entrance to her ass, them alone thicker than any human cock, though nowhere near the size of the one she loved so dearly.

“Yes,” Kyrie moaned out, gasping again as she felt a third finger begin to stretch her out. “Yes, mistress. Your bitch will never do it again,” she promised, though she was sure she would. 

When Reva kissed her again, there was nothing passive or shy about it, taking her mouth while fingering her ass. It was everything Kyrie could have wanted, at least in that long moment. When it ended, the conquering centaur pulled back and left a breathless Kyrie to wonder why she was lowering her mouth to the princess’ breasts again.

The knight kissed and sucked her nipples again, though not for any royal or divine milk. She sucked to mark her bitch’s tits as property, and she sucked for the sake of leaving them sore and tender with bruises as punishment. The Crown Bitch cried out several times in mixed pain and pleasure. At the end, she cried out in dismay.

That had nothing to do with the hickeys now marking her tits, and much more to do with Reva leaving her ass empty. Not that she would be left waiting for long. Growling with a pent up need, Reva reached aside and knocked her blade off the workbench and other implements with a sweep of her arm, all but throwing Kyrie down on it.

Though the princess gasped with surprise, she knew what she needed to do, stretching herself out and lifting her hips to present both her whorish holes to her mistress. Reva delivered a harsh smack across her royal bottom before grabbing the workbench and yanking it away from the wall, ignoring Kyrie’s squeal as the princess clung to it, keeping herself ready.

Despite their differences in size and shape, Reva had gotten quite good at blindly taking her bitch. It helped that in any given circumstance, neither of them cared which hole the centaur claimed. What mattered was that she took it, and that she took it without mercy. “Keep quiet,” she growled down at Kyrie, who obediently moved her arm around and bit down on the side of her forearm to keep herself muffled, as she had been trained to do.

The royal bitch bit herself hard seconds later as Reva’s equine cock speared into her sodden pussy. It didn’t stop her from screaming out, only muffling her primal wail. It should have been full of discomfort and pain, but between the effects of the centaur cum she was so addicted to and her amazon heritage, she could truly take Reva’s pounding. 

Any thoughts Kyrie had in her head were pushed out further and further each time Reva rammed herself home in her bitch’s royal, loyal pussy. The blonde bimbo knew that she could live forever and never find anything quite so perfect as her mistress’ cock, with her mistress’ cum being a close second. Her fuck tunnel clung so incredibly tight to it that Reva had a harder time pulling out than pushing back in; she had taken the time to train her bitch to clench her muscles in time with her cock. She took to it readily.

“This,” Reva grunted as she pumped her horse cock into Kyrie’s wet vise over and over again, “is what you were made for, you know.” The centaur had started playing with her own tits, but as she continued she dragged her hands up her chest, raking her fingers into her hair. From the waist up, she was the very picture of a powerful woodland nymph riding a hard won fuck, utterly sensual. Her lower half matched her aggression perfectly.

“This right here,” Reva continued, and Kyrie couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back as the words and the cock she worshipped drove her into a convulsing orgasm. “You weren’t made to be Queen. You were made to be a slut for centaur cock,” she grunted again. “For no greater purpose than to give me something to squeeze my cock in, and that’s all you’re good for. Isn’t it? Speak, bitch.”

Reva knew better. Of course Kyrie was born to be queen, and she really shouldn’t be screaming it out in this part of the castle. The centaur trusted the thick walls enough that she didn’t care in the midst of their passionate fuck.

Kyrie abandoned her improvised gag at once, screaming out the answer she knew her mistress wanted. It was desperate, rushed, and once she said the key word she simply continued screaming her pleasure. “Yes, mistress! Your bitch is only good for your cock!”

“That’s a good bitch,” Reva grinned, basking in the power she felt. Her eyes aimed down, where she could barely see Kyrie’s stretched out arms poke out from under her and over the workbench. For a second, she wished she could see what her royal slut looked like. It was the one problem with being a centaur; she couldn’t see what her cock did to her bitch in the moment, a thought that often crossed her mind.

It took her a second to remember the wide mirror in the room; the centaurs didn’t keep them in their villages, considering them vain and foolish. Feeling a thrill rise in her, Reva glanced sidelong at it and caught her profile just as another orgasm started to rack the princess’ perfect body with terrible shudders, her hands dragging back to the table, fingers scratching and pounding pitifully on it with crying joy.

Reva fucking loved it, and paired with the spasmatic clenching it shot through her bitch’s pussy, it pushed her over the edge. She let out an animalistic grunt as she began to fill up the princess with her spunk, pulling out halfway through her orgasm to shower the bitch’s ass and back with her cum.

With Kyrie still shivering pitifully from her overwhelming orgasm, Reva took a few steps back and leaned down to roughly flip her over. The almost insensate princess barely reacted to that, but she yowled out in pain when her mistress slapped her bruised tits and forced her glassy eyes into focus on her mistress.

“Legs up,” Reva snarled, and soon she was plowing Kyrie’s royal ass.

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It was another hour before Reva moved off her slut, stretching mightily and grinning lazily as she took in her handiwork. Kyrie was better glazed than any sweetcake the centaur had ever seen, and the citizens of the Cesta Empire did love their glazed sweetcakes. Centaur cum stained her belly and breasts, her face and thighs. It leaked from her ass and pussy and dribbled down her chin, face well-painted. Kyrie had entered with picture perfect hair, but it was a wild mess now with very white highlights.

_ Radiant, _ Reva reminded herself as she watched her bitch lay there recovering with a dumb smile on her face, absently massaging her mistress’ spunk into her skin.

Kyrie started to blink hard, as though trying to clear a fleck of cum from her long eyelashes. “Reva,” she said, voice weak from her screaming -- thankfully, the walls were in fact thick enough to block it out. “I’m supposed to be meeting with my mother.”

That wiped Reva’s grin away. “Oh, fuck.” 

“Do you think that I look presentable?” Kyrie asked as she slowly pushed back on one hand to get in an upright position, still blinking cum away as she looked towards the centaur. 

Reva could feel her cock stir again. Nothing brought it to life quite like Kyrie’s .. ‘unique’ mixture of innocence and debauchery. 

She imagined the Queen’s wrath, and the thought of the luscious amazon on the warpath did little to soften her. Even so, she still stared at Kyrie, flabbergasted by the question. “You must be the stupidest slut in the world.”

The Crown Bitch started giggling as she sank back down, scooping some cum away from her navel to slide in her mouth. She was high out of her mind on centaur spunk, pupils unmistakably dilated.


	8. Queen of the Amazons

Kyrie, who had been born well after the Empire conquered the amazons, had limited exposure to their culture. She loved visiting her mother’s personal chambers; the Amazons were exotic, and everything about them enraptured her in stark contrast to how boring she found the Empire.

The rugs were made from animals she had never heard of and the tapestries depicted their proud history, only missing the last three decades when her father brought her mother’s people to heel.

On one wall hung a beautiful spear, its obsidian head gleaming unnaturally, its ironwood haft carved with runes of unknown power. It was said to be the first spear in all creation, given to the first amazon by her father. Beneath it, the Queen’s Torc sat in a glass case. Though beautiful, it had no power of its own. The ruby at its center shone with a glorious inner fire; the amazons were bound by ancient oaths to obey whomever wore it.

The ruby wasn’t there anymore, of course. It was the centerpiece of her father’s crown.

These artifacts and so many more parts of her heritage were on display, and in the past she had spent hours exploring the room, asking her mother question upon question.

That night, Kyrie ignored most of them in favor of the west wall, dominated by her mother’s collection of trophies. Reva had managed to clean her up with a quick bath and a thorough toweling, and they replaced her milk-stained clothes with an outfit just like it, but green where the first was blue.

Kyrie giggled, wearing a dopey grin as she held her arm up to the centerpiece of her mother’s collection. She had always thought it was weird the massive ‘minotaur horn’ wasn’t actually made of horn. Preserved by magic, it was only a little bit longer than her forearm. 

The door opened and the Queen entered, looking every part a goddess of lust and violence. Though she moved with feline grace and her perfect posture emphasized the curves of her breasts and her womanly hips, her predatory edge was unmistakable. 

Kyrie resembled her greatly, though where she was fair-skinned the Queen was tanned and bronzed. 

Where the daughter was lean, the mother was athletic, her muscles only complimenting her deadly femininity. She was inches taller, and though her breasts were heavier, they were just as perky. The cleavage of her pale silk top was so wide that it didn’t cover all of her areola; she didn’t care if a movement exposed one of her nipples, letting the always tight tips of her tits taunt everyone around her. The sarong she wore around her hips was similar to her daughter’s, though the Queen wore a thong where the Crown Princess wore panties. A little less than a thong, in truth. A small slit gave her immediate and easy access to her pussy whenever she cared for it.

Kyrie’s eyes were bright blue and shone with optimism, but the Queen’s were dark and dangerous, never disguising whatever fickle desire she was about to demand. And though the Queen would soon be forty-five, she didn’t look a day over twenty nine. She smiled at her daughter as Kyrie turned to face her, clearly amused at the sight of her eldest measuring her arm against her prized treasures.

“You never told me these were cocks, mom,” the cum-high ditz declared, grinning brightly as she took the minotaur cock-trophy in hand and wrapped her fingers around the thick base. “It’s so much smaller than a centaur cock! Look, I can almost close my hand around it.”

Her mother kept smiling, though her eyebrows raised slowly.

It took the bimbo a moment to realize what she had just done. 

“Oops.”

The two spoke long into the night, and Kyrie didn’t tell Reva what had happened when she crawled into her cage inside the centaur’s bed, still loopy from her mistress’ potent sperm.

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“She’s on the balcony, enjoying some fresh air, and she does not wish to be disturbed. Leave it there,” Reva said with an absent wave of her hand, not really caring where the maids left Kyrie’s breakfast, though she was happy to have her own placed on a serving cart near her bed, a perfect height for the lounging centaur.

Of course, Kyrie wasn’t on the balcony. She had slept in her cage. A few minutes ago, she had just gotten her morning swallow of her mistress’ cum. She could never down it all; after the first few weeks of their relationship, Reva gave her a pile of parchment to line the cage with, making it much easier to clean up. As much as she liked the thought of her bitch sleeping in a pool of her spunk, she  _ was  _ a royal bitch and couldn’t be kept filthy all the time.

Also, they found it started to smell bad and the maids almost discovered it while searching for the stink. It was just more practical.

Reva started in on her breakfast, taking her time and enjoying each bite while she could feel her bitch shift around beneath her, replacing her mouth with her asscheeks, hotdogging her mistress’ shaft as it began to stir back to life, recovering from her first orgasm. 

The centaur loved their routine, and as she finished off her bacon she began to consider their day plan. Other than her dinner plans with the bickering nobles, Reva would have Kyrie at her disposal all morning, all afternoon and most of the evening. It would be a good time to do some training, and perhaps they’d sneak out for a ‘walk’ just past midnight.

Reva, who had zero experience with lactation except through the lens of her bitch’s tits, wondered if she’d be able to get her to squirt milk on command. It seemed unrealistic, but it’d be fun to try. She finished her bacon and picked at some sausages on her plate, smirking to herself as she felt Kyrie wiggle around beneath her. The poor bitch always had trouble getting her cock angled within the box’s tight confines, but she never complained, always keeping at it doggedly until she could impale herself on her mistress’ cock.

Reva snorted with quieter laughter, even as Kyrie managed to align her eternally tight asshole with the far too large head of her cock and press it inside. Imagining the consternation on the Crown Princess’ face as she struggled to take Reva’s horse cock just  _ tickled  _ the centaur in a way few other things did. 

_ I’m lucky _ , she thought to herself, beginning to smile fondly as Kyrie started to rock her hips back and forth, twisting them to-and-fro. This was the slowest, most ‘romantic’ their fucking ever got, the princess doing her best when she was allowed control. Though she used her bitch’s ass daily, it still felt as good as the first time Reva took her back in the stables.

She finished her breakfast and started pushing it aside, wondering to herself if any other centaur in history had been a part of anything like her relationship with Kyrie, right under everyone’s noses. The centaurs celebrated sexual conquest as much as they celebrated violence. Perhaps one day, they would tell stories and sing songs about Reva Tramplehoof, the Queensfuck. 

Oh, she liked that.

“Queensfuck,” she mused to herself. Did that rhyme with anything? “Queensfuck, queensfuck, queens--”

The door opened and in came the Queen, her daughter surely half-covered in cum with Reva’s cock lodged in her asshole. 

“-- fuck,” Reva finished, blinking hard before clearing her throat. She started to rise to bow, only realizing too late that she was about to pop out of Kyrie and greet the Queen with an enormous cock that would seem ecstatic to meet her.

Her mind raced.

_ Fuck it. I’ll claim morning wood. _

“At ease, Dame Reva,” the Queen purred, habitually feline but nothing like the sex kitten Kyrie had turned out to be. She was a panther, a lion, happy to take what she wanted and when she wanted it, with indifference to whatever might befall her prey after she put them away wet. Reva was sure that whether that wetness was from a hard fuck or a bloody wound, the Queen would look much the same in the aftermath, casual in her self-satisfaction.

Either way, it was a relief. The centaur settled back down. Though she had been relaxed and enjoying Kyrie’s morning service, every part of her body was on high alert now. She was keenly aware of each twitch she felt from Kyrie’s ass around her cock, not even slowing for a moment. 

Was Kyrie so absorbed by Reva’s cock that she didn’t hear her mother’s voice?

_ Fuck. _

Reva had seen the Queen fight before, and she once had the privilege of sparring with her. If Reva drew her ire, everything would be over in a moment.

“My daughter,” the Queen prompted, and though it had the sound of a command, Reva recognized it for a question: where is she? The last princess of the amazon queendom stalked forward carelessly, stopping by Kyrie’s breakfast. Her black-lacquered nails circled the untouched plate, picking out a strawberry and lifting it to her perfect lips; the way she took it into her mouth made Reva wonder what it would feel like if that strawberry was her cock.

_ Oh, fuck, no. _ She had to fight that off. The Queen was now staring at her with heavy eyelids, waiting patiently. She also really, really had to answer that question.

Reva cleared her throat, ready to give the same excuse she gave the maids. But she knew the Queen wasn’t going to leave just because her daughter was on the balcony; the Queen would just walk out there. 

“Ah, she’s in the-- um.” Reva cleared her throat again, irritation suddenly striking her as her cheeks flushed. Her cock filled Kyrie’s ass so thoroughly that she could feel her pussy begin to spasm through the walls of her ass.  _ The stupid bitch is cumming with her mother RIGHT HERE.  _ At least she did so quietly.

That meant she probably bit the piece of leather they kept in the cage for just this situation.

The royal bitch knew exactly what she was doing!

“A walk,” Reva said instead, the first thing that came to her mind.

“My daughter is taking a walk,” the Queen repeated, taking up another strawberry. Her mouth would look heavenly sealed around a cock. This breakfast was now Reva’s worst nightmare.

“Yes,” Reva swallowed hard, aware of how terribly guilty she looked. The Queen ate her strawberry, then prowled towards the centaur, then to her side. She could feel the Queen put a knee on the bed, though she didn’t dare look. Her throat grew tight as the Queen slowly slid her hand up to Reva’s shoulder, slowly slid her hips up until she could plant herself right on Reva’s back, as though she were a horse.

Anyone else, even the King, and Reva would be bucking. Caught between the Queen on her back and the Crown Princess on her cock, Reva was frozen.

The door to her bitch’s cage started to creak forward. The dumb bitch was starting to come out. In a moment of panic, Reva pushed it back shut with her hoof and kept it pressed there. She ignored the tapping and scratching she felt through it.  _ Kyrie, you fucking idiot! _

The Queen’s mouth was now near Reva’s ear, and her fingers grazed over the knight’s throat and stomach, a terribly intimate hold made all the worse for the fact Reva still had her cock buried in Kyrie. She’d have to wiggle to get it out now or she’d need to let Kyrie crawl out, and she was willing to do neither.

“Centaur,” the Queen murmured. Reva shuddered at the feeling of her hot breath tickling her ear. “I am not blind. I have seen the way you look at my flesh and blood,” she continued. Her mount struggled to keep her breathing easy, natural. The fingers on her throat tightened. “And I know exactly what you have done to her.”

Reva’s stomach began sinking, even as the Queen’s fingers traced over her well-defined abs. “Your Majesty--” she began, unsure of what she was even going to say, though the sudden nip at her earlobe shut her up immediately, confusing and arousing her. She had to fight to keep herself from going wild.

“Shhh, girl.” The Queen was back to purring.

Reva was certain she was about to die.

“Cum in her right now for me and you will have my blessing,” the Queen promised, her fingers slipping under Reva’s leather halter and pinching one of her hard nipples.  _ … Wait, what? _

But she didn’t think that last word. She croaked it out, her voice hitching in confusion and surprise as she did as her queen commanded. The centaur’s eyes snapped shut and she groaned out, flooding her bitch’s ass with her seed while her bitch’s mother, the most beautiful and dangerous woman in the empire, held her from behind.

Did she just die?

The Queen was stroking Reva’s hair comfortingly and humming, pleased with herself. “Sex is different for amazons, centaur. It doesn’t matter what they want so long as they get it. Keep giving my daughter what she wants. Keep making her happy,” she purred. Reva heard the unspoken threat, her throat working for a moment before she could form a proper word, let alone three.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good. I’m glad you know your duty.” The Queen released Reva’s breast and leaned a bit forward. Dazed from dumping her cum in her slut, Reva just let herself enjoy the feeling of the queen’s tits and her obviously hard nipples against her back.

The Queen kissed her cheek, then slid off her back and off the bed entirely. “And get a bigger bed for yourself,” she said as she made for the door. As much as she wanted to appreciate the swaying of the Queen’s majestic ass, Reva could only stare blankly after her. “That cage is ridiculous. At least give her the room to roll over.”

The Queen opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind herself.

Kyrie opened her cage’s door and crawled out, giggling and grinning to herself. She turned herself over and put herself right up against the bed’s frame, high again on a centaur spunk; the royal bitch gazed lovingly upward and waited.

Reva soon gave her what she wanted, a rough punishment for whatever the fuck just happened. 

The Crown Princess had to skip her dinner plans, citing illness. Injury was closer, as she simply wasn’t able to sit down for the rest of the day when her mistress was done with her.


	9. Interlude

On their walks, Kyrie was to play the part of a loyal, obedient bitch, crawling through the garden on her leash, her collar proudly declaring her identity as **HER ROYAL BITCHNESS**. She certainly looked the part with her gem-studded blindfold. Of course, she knew to keep her mouth shut, and she knew that under no circumstances was she to make a noise without Reva’s permission.

For the past fifteen minutes, Reva had been ignoring the princess’ occasional pawing at her leg, increasingly needy for her mistress’ attention. The most attention Reva gave her bitch was a brief glance, just to see how her face pouted and how her hips wiggled in need.

Finally, her cock freeing from her sheath, Reva turned and addressed her blind bitch. They were secluded in the gardens now, in a small glade few visited. “Pay your respects and then you may speak,” she told Kyrie.

Kyrie ceased her sulking and began beaming, crawling beneath Reva and climbing to her knees. She cupped her mistress’ hardness with the same enthusiastic delight she always had, unless her mistress _wanted_ her desperate or sobbing or whatever else might strike her whimsy. Over the past year, she was certain she had become the best bitch she could be.

Unless her mistress wanted her to be a bad bitch. She didn’t always say as much, but Kyrie could tell when that was what Reva wanted.

She kissed the cock she adored so, licking every inch of it clean once she had lined its shaft with marks from her painted lips; despite not being able to see it, she knew it like the back of her hand, able to imagine her mistress’ veiny horse cock perfectly in her mind.

It was a special occasion, their one year anniversary. Reva decided to enjoy Kyrie’s worship while gazing up at the beautiful, star-dotted night sky, and reached to her human waist for the flask of wine she decided to bring. It was a gift from the Queen, a bottle of amazonian firewine aged two hundred years, never to be produced again.

It burned, but in a good way. She had a gift for her slut tucked away as well and planned to give it to her later.

Kyrie had a gift too, and had spent the last week training herself to hide it on her person, in what her mother humorously called nature’s pocket during their discussion months ago. The gift had to do with something Kyrie had been quietly obsessing over ever since her mother explained it to her.

Carefully, as she finished loving the base of Reva’s cock, she spread her pussy’s lips apart and slid out the silver centaur-sized cockring she had ordered from a terribly confused smith last month, slick with her wetness.

Kyrie didn’t really understand marriage the way she should have.

“Mistress,” she panted, and waited for acknowledgement.

“Speak, bitch,” Reva granted, taking a swig of the firewine.

“Will you marry your bitch and fill her slutty fuckhole with lots and lots of babies?” Kyrie asked, innocent and earnest and full of love as she began to clumsily slide the cockring over Reva’s length, frowning as she realized it was actually too small.

Reva snorted mid-swig at the question and sprayed firewine from her nose, quickly learning it could burn in a very bad way indeed. She had taken the princess here because it was quiet, isolated.

“WHAT?!” The way she howled out her surprise at that question would almost surely draw the palace guard she had bribed to stay away.

**FIN**

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	10. Thinking Back

Reva ran her fingers through her Crown Bitch’s long, lovely locks of golden blonde hair, smiling down at her angelic face as she slept. Some people might be turned off by the copious, creamy cum glazing coating the princess’ fair skin, but not Reva. The centauride liked it, but she was biased. She was the one that splashed all that semen over Kyrie in the first place, and she was the one that had fucked the poor princess into unconsciousness. Kyrie was her bitch, her  _ akhina _ , her slutty little whore. Her cocksleeve, her cumbank.

More than any of that, Kyrie was her wife.  _ She could be a sweaty mess and I’d still find her as beautiful and as sexy as ever, _ Reva mused to herself, though she realized it was a poor example. Beneath all the chaotic spray of centaur cum covering her, ‘sweaty mess’ had to be a perfect descriptor for the debauched heir to the Cesta Empire, marathon fucked into a sleepy stupor, ridden hard and left out wet on their ridiculous split bed. 

One half spoke of royal opulence, all plush and soft silks. The other was functional, handsomely carved but made far more bulky, observing the reality of Reva’s immense weight. Various contraptions were worked into its design, straps and supports and other things that let them fuck with far more ease and comfort. Of course, Reva’s side still had a little cage tucked under it and a cockhole in its surface for whenever the whim struck her to get Kyrie out of her sight yet keep her still impaled on her cock.

As Kyrie’s future consort, Reva now shared her royal suites. Separate rooms were offered to her, but Kyrie put her foot down and  _ insisted _ Reva share her space. With some reservations, Reva acquiesced. For the most part, it meant they didn’t need to worry about sneaking around and doing their dirty, domination-heavy deeds without anyone catching on to the fact that Kyrie’s lifelong bodyguard had turned the woman she swore to protect into her personal fucktoy.

The centaur studied her charge’s cum-coated features for a moment longer, then reluctantly reached over to grab a waiting towel from her night table. She enjoyed making Kyrie rub her sperm into her pristine skin, treating it like a skincare ointment, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. They had a meeting in the morning and Kyrie could be difficult to rouse; she might not have the time to wash the cum off her if it had a chance to dry. Plus, some of it had splashed her blonde lashes, binding them together. Delicate and tender, Reva began to wipe Her Royal Bitchness clean.

Reva had no regrets about the marriage, though she knew she was in over her head. She thought back to the night that changed everything.

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**_Back then..._ **

Five months ago, she accepted Kyrie’s moonlight proposal in the garden. Only after giving her  _ akhina _ a proper punishment for her audacity, of course. Fucking one of her holes in the moment only would have encouraged her bad behavior. Orgasms were rewards, after all. She made the Crown Bitch work her cock to the brink of orgasm, then tugged her leash and made her follow Reva over to the river that wound through the garden. 

There, Reva made Kyrie aim her impressive horse cock towards the water and finish jerking her to completion, much to Kyrie’s horror. Still, she obeyed, moaning in ridiculous misery with each powerful shot of jizz, making Reva smile. The blonde princess watched sullenly as the thick cum mixed with the water and lost its thickness, breaking apart with the gentle current. Right when Reva thought Kyrie was about to quit her whimpering, right when Reva was about to give her the answer she wanted, Her Royal Bitchness lunged for the water, so desperate not to let a single drop of her mistress’ cum go to waste that she was willing to dive into the water for it.

Not that it was much of a dive, considering she was on her hands and knees. It was a lurch, only resulting in Kyrie half-dunking her head in the water before Reva yanked her leash hard and pulled her back, making her sputter out water and gasp in fresh air. “You’re such a ridiculous, cock-hungry slut of a woman,” she told Kyrie, watching her bitch’s face as her bottom lip quivered and her eyes darted back towards the last of the cum in the water. 

“Are you that desperate for just a little cum?” Reva asked, tugging the leash again and lifting her hand to force Kyrie to look up at her, tears glistening in her eyes. Like the obedient slut that she was, the princess reached behind herself and grabbed either of her forearms with the opposite hand, as though binding herself for her master. She straightened her back and stuck out her chest, briefly drawing Reva’s eye to her hefty tits, impossibly perky for their size and the seemingly endless supply of milk they contained. Kyrie was the picture of a perfect  _ akhina _ , instinctively knowing her place, her role in life.

“Y-yes, mistress,” Her Royal Bitchness confessed without a moment of hesitation. “More than anything.” She sank her perfect, pearly teeth into her full bottom lip, squirming her hips, eager to please.  _ Very _ eager to please, Reva noted even in the heat of the moment, glancing down at her bitch’s lower body and narrowing her eyes. “So please, mistress, let your bitch have it, and--”

It wasn’t that she was squirming her hips. She had settled on her knees and had shifted around until her pussy was just over the heel of her foot. Kyrie wasn’t just eager to please. Kyrie was eager to  _ be _ pleased. The princess was such a horny whore that while she acted the part of a submissive slut, she was grinding her sodden pussy into her bare heel. Behind her back, she must have been squeezing her forearms so hard that the knuckles were white.

Reva didn’t hear the rest of what Kyrie was saying. She threw her head back with a snort and then laughed, long and hard, her eyes closing. One year, and Kyrie had changed  _ this  _ much. She went from being a hapless virgin, a naive cocktease, to being insatiably hungry for centaur cock. Looking back over the last year, Reva couldn’t think of a single day where Kyrie wasn’t desperate for another hard dicking. She couldn’t think of a single time she felt her cruel, almost sadistic domming was  _ too _ much for Kyrie, nor could she think of a time where it didn’t ultimately leave her smiling. “Fine,” Reva said as her laughter finally subsided. Kyrie had continued to plead and beg through it, but she stopped the moment Reva uttered those syllables and blinked at her, uncertain. The reason for her doubt was clear without needing to be spoken. Was she about to get more dick or was she about to get punished again? “On your feet,” Reva ordered her  _ akhina _ , yanking her collar again. 

Kyrie stumbled up to her feet awkwardly, keeping her arms behind herself like a disciplined slut might. That discipline evaporated when Reva reached down with her powerful, brawny arms, grabbing the blonde by her hips and hoisting her up. Her Royal Bitchness squeaked out in surprise, releasing her grip on herself to shoot her hands out, finding Reva’s shoulders and supporting herself on them. In other circumstances, Reva might punish Kyrie for her impudence in touching Reva. 

But those circumstances? Then and there, in that moment? They were special. 

The knight brought her in close, hugging Kyrie close to her human half, their breasts pressed together so tight that they threatened to flatten out. The arm that wasn’t holding Kyrie slid down to grab under her thigh and hook it up, encouraging Kyrie to hook her heel just behind Reva’s waist, resting atop her furred half. The princess didn’t need to be told to lift her other leg and do the same, nor that it was okay for her to slip her arms around Reva’s neck and cling to her. 

The two were left face to face, brows touching, lips barely apart, blue eyes locked on green ones and vice-versa.

Living in the capital as long as she had, Reva had plenty of human friends. She knew how proposals went, having seen (and even helped plan and execute) several. All commonborn, free to marry for love unlike Kyrie. It always came down to a simple exchange. The question was always simple, direct. ‘Will you marry me’? On the other hand, the answer was a bit more variable. It could be an empathetic, surprised, or maybe even tearful yes, if not an awkward or harsh no followed by an uncomfortable apology.

Kyrie didn’t ask to marry Reva. That would have been simple. No, she had asked Reva to marry her bitch and fill her slutty fuckhole with lots and lots of babies. Reva was reasonably certain Kyrie was, and would always be, the only woman to ever speak those exact words. She also had to be the first  _ akhina _ to ask for her master’s hand in marriage. Hell, while she wasn’t the first  _ akhina  _ of royal blood, she had to be the first royal  _ akhina _ to enter their master’s service without a war being involved. When the world was a simpler place, ‘extra’ princesses were common gifts to placate centaur stampedes.

She didn’t even realize any of that, and probably wouldn’t remember if Reva told her. Most of the time, it seemed like the only thing Kyrie could concentrate on was her cock. The centaur brushed it all aside. It didn’t matter. If she did this-- it had to be a secret. Their secret, even more intimate than their sex life. And even though she truly, truly loved Kyrie, she couldn’t very well knock up the Empire’s Crown Princess once. She certainly couldn’t give her ‘lots and lots of babies’.

How could she possibly answer such a fucked-up question? It took her some time to come up with an answer, a whole minute that felt  _ much _ longer in her mind. 

She could answer it by not thinking about it so goddamn much. Kyrie got through life just fine without seeming to make any conscious use of her brilliant mind, so what could possibly go wrong if she just said fuck it, threw caution to the wind and lived in the moment like she could?

“Kyrie,” Reva whispered, “I’ll marry you and fill your slutty fuckhole with so many babies.” Later, she would make sure Kyrie understood the situation correctly. Early in the morning, maybe. She’d have to wake Kyrie up before the princess’ ridiculous libido kicked in, really drill it into her while she was still groggy. 

Tears came again to Kyrie’s eyes, this time flowing freely down her cheeks, but of course there was nothing sad about her joyous expression. “Thank you, mistress,” she told Reva, right before making the presumptuous move of pushing her cock-sucking lips up against Reva’s. The last time Kyrie pulled such a move, Reva made the princess promise to never do it again. It had flustered the knight. This time, she returned it. This time, she wasn’t just getting kissed by her bitch.

She was getting kissed by her future wife, however the fuck that would end up working out.

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**_In the present..._ **

Reva tossed the soiled towel aside. She didn’t care where it landed. One of the servants would deal with it later, if not one of Kyrie’s ladies-in-waiting. They had gotten used to the sheer amount of bodily fluids that were often left on the floor, furniture, or on improvised rags. Credit needed to go where it was due; the people surrounding Kyrie had quickly gotten used to the idea of her being married to a centaur, and they had grown used to everything that came with it. Ridiculously cummy messes were just one of those things.

Now, the rest of the kingdom, they weren’t quite so understanding about their future Queen marrying a centauride. Oh, they had nothing against Reva herself, and Kyrie would forever remain adored by both the common folk and nobility alike. But royal wedlock came with royal expectations. 

First and foremost, whomever Kyrie married would most likely father a future King or Queen. That was no small thing, and most of the Empire’s citizens didn’t know jack squat about centaurs  _ or _ their genders. Would the royal couple adopt a lucky baby? Was Princess Kyrie secretly a man? Prince Kyle, perhaps. What did her marriage mean for the safety and sanctity of the realm and the royal family’s line of succession? 

Second, while the commonborn peanut gallery might find the idea of Kyrie marrying her lifelong bodyguard out of love romantic, political pundits and the vast majority of the nobility found it irresponsible. They expected Kyrie to marry for the Empire’s sake, securing a vital alliance with a powerful house inside its borders, or one of its few potential allies in the outside world. Reva was obviously neither, hailing from the steppe tribes, a people already conquered by the Empire. The centaurs of the steppes still lived nomadic lifestyles and were largely viewed as uncivilized brutes, not that many people were brave enough to voice those thoughts around one. The Empire gained nothing through Kyrie’s match to Reva.

Finally, there was the little matter of the wedding itself. A royal wedding was expected to be an  _ event _ , a holiday, a full-on festival that would last two or three weeks. Older citizens of the Empire could fondly remember the King and Queen’s nuptials, a month full of debauchery and excess on the royal family’s dime. Those who worked the events or had been contracted to provide catering and other necessities still hadn’t spent all of their hard-earned gold. Everyone assumed that when Kyrie’s wedding was announced, the capital would experience an economic boom.

Instead, Kyrie’s wedding was announced months after it happened on a Friday afternoon. 

It was the very last thing the town criers and royal heralds announced that week. Princess Kyrie, married to her bodyguard Dame Reva in a private ceremony. Most of them then went underground for the weekend to spare themselves the hassle of having to answer to the rioting merchants who had been stockpiling goods and ridiculous novelties for years. It had, of course, been folly to spend five years stockpiling coasters with Kyrie’s likeness and tunics proudly embroidered with, ‘ _ MY MOM ATTENDED PRINCESS KYRIE’S WEDDING AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID TUNIC _ ’.

Reva went back to combing her fingers through her bitch’s hair, smiling a bit wryly at the memory of the ceremony itself. They didn’t invite anyone. It was just her, Kyrie, and a priest of the Goddess of Chaos, a member of the only sect mad enough to go through with it -- and one of the few sects with enough power to survive the King’s wrath, if need be. They did it right where Reva had first conquered Kyrie and broken in her pussy, mouth and ass: the royal stables, on a day where the King decided to take half the court fox-hunting. The priest kept watch for them while they consummated their nuptials.

They kept the secret going for all of three weeks, about as long as it took for Reva to comfortably feel Kyrie understood how discrete they needed to be, and how they probably couldn’t have a baby.

When it finally came out, it was of course a huge fucking scandal. For all of a week, anyway, with some of those affected loudly bemoaning the impending collapse of the Empire and others arguing passionately in favor of Kyrie and Reva’s love story, crafting increasingly intricate tales of how Reva must have won the princess’ heart and hand.

Reva glanced to the far wall of their room, where a tapestry stretched from one end of the wall to another. Lovingly sewn, it showed her charging down a dragon and beheading it, saving the buxom blonde princess it held in its claw from certain doom. It always made her chuff with how ridiculous and over the top it was. She enjoyed the infamy it brought her, though part of her was uncomfortable with just how many people believed those stories and how fervently they believed in them.

Who knew it was so easy to mislead an entire nation?

Either way, she hoped it was a situation she would never have to live through. Powerful and as majestic as they were, nothing good ever came of dragons. As a child, she had watched her tribe slay the last one living in the Steppes. It was one of her most vivid memories. Old and ancient and no longer able to fly, it still killed dozens of members of her tribe with the same ease Reva lifted her pinky. 

She glanced down at her left hand. Each child of the tribe had been given one of the dragon’s scales and were permitted to do as they pleased with it, with the expectation that they would one day use it for a piece of armor or a weapon. Sent off young to be trained as Kyrie’s guardian, Reva never found a use for it, not until she needed something special to serve as the base for their wedding bands. 

An eighth of her scale had been shaved and carved down to form her chunky, masculine ring and its partner, the slim and feminine one gracing Kyrie’s finger. They didn’t wear them until it became public, something the Queen ultimately forced. It was the Queen that then gave them the tiny rubies that were set into them, almost alive with a strange inner fire. 

All in all, it was what it was: a huge fucking scandal for a week, and then it all seemed to ooze away. Not even the merchants who lost small fortunes could stay mad at Kyrie for very long. People grew accustomed to the idea far faster than Reva would have thought possible.

Closing her eyes, Reva thought back to the  _ other _ night that changed everything, the night the king found out about his daughter’s secret wedding.

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**_Three weeks after the wedding..._ **

Reva was anything but comfortable sitting in the royal dining room. It was far from her first time there, and it wasn’t her first time sitting at the table for the purposes of supping with the King and Queen. She was, after all, Kyrie’s guardian and oldest friend. When the princess ate with her parents, Reva was usually at hand, and it wasn’t unusual for them to invite Reva to join them. It had been about a little over a year since the last time either had happened.

Since becoming Reva’s  _ akhina _ , Kyrie became very good at finding excuses not to eat with anyone but her present. After all, a bit of privacy meant that Reva could give the princess’ food a little bit of her special sauce or a unique centaur dessert, if not help her plenty of post-meal exercise. Those were just two of the coy little euphemisms Reva had caught her mentioning to the palace staff or her friends. An uncomfortable amount of people seemed to believe she was a chef, dropping little hints about their interest in centaur cuisine.

Reva could cook whole chickens or swine over a spit roast and boil vegetables, but that was the extent of her culinary skills. It baffled her that no one picked up on what she felt was an obvious reference to her cum and cock -- though of course, most people didn’t know about the latter and thus had no reason to suspect the former. If they really cared about centaur cuisine and bothered to find a cookbook, they’d learn the truth quick enough.

The finery Reva wore felt far itchier than it should have, considering it was only laundered that morning. She knew it was her nerves. The Queen insisted on this dinner party, surprising the two wives with the invitation an hour ago. 

She said it was for old time’s sake. Now Reva was sitting less than five feet away from the King, having just fucked his daughter less than two hours ago. Kyrie still had Reva’s cum sloshing around in her ass, sealed in by a jeweled  _ aeenah _ , the centaur marriage of a butt plug and anal beads. It was awkward, but at least that awkwardness was one-sided. In his heyday, the King was a legendary warrior. Though those glory days were behind him, he still loved to relive them through conversations. When she was younger, Reva would get quite into his stories -- even the ones that touched on the conquest of the centaurs. 

He was an inspiration and one of the most powerful-looking humans she had ever seen. Without his crown bearing the ruby stolen from the Queen’s Torc, he looked a bit smaller, but only just, his tall frame filled with solid muscle. He gestured broadly with his large hands as he relayed his story, though tonight Reva was barely listening.

Tonight, she was smiling and nodding and trying not to look at the Queen. She hadn’t spoken with Kyrie’s mother since the day she came in and gave Reva the single greatest fright of her life just for the capricious sake of fucking with her while Reva fucked her daughter. That day, she gave Reva and Kyrie her blessing. 

If not for that, Reva never would have accepted Kyrie’s unexpected proposal. She didn’t know if Kyrie had told her mother about the marriage, and if she was being honest with herself, she was afraid to ask. The Queen was as scary as she was sexy, oozing sensuality and confidence even at her most casual.

Occasionally, Reva’s nerves would fail her and she would glance over at the Queen, desperate for a hint of what she might be planning. And always, at that exact moment, the Queen seemed to meet her eye and smile like she always did, like a cat about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. Glancing at Kyrie gave her precious little, either. She was bubbly and ecstatic to accept her mother’s invitation to dinner. The  _ aeenah  _ was her own idea. Now she remained just as bubbly, occasionally shifting in her seat, clearly just wanting to feel the cum inside her and the toy press against the walls of her ass.

Reva knew they were planning  _ something.  _ One thing she picked up over the years was that when amazons wore matching outfits, something was about to go down. Pranks, in her experience, but the Queen once let slip such was the tradition of their war parties. She gave a small shiver, glancing at Kyrie’s outfit and then the Queen’s -- the latter, of course, simply winked and smiled a touch wider. 

Both mother and daughter were practically naked, not at all unusual for amazons. They usually bared most of their skin, and what wasn’t tucked away was easily accessible if the right whim struck them. As usual, the pair of them looked like twins albeit twins separated by ten years of physical maturity; Kyrie the perfect example of nubility, like a grape still ripening, and her mother was like matured wine, fuller and lusher. One fair-skinned and bright-eyed, the other bronzed with eyes so dark they may as well be black.

Tonight, both wore short gowns with deep v-cuts on the neck and back, baring a long stretch of their pristine flesh and baring the sides of their perfect breasts and their gently toned musculatures. The hem of their skirts barely cleared either of their thick asses. It was a bold, risque take on an increasingly popular style of dress in the capital. On their feet they wore strappy, high-laced sandals with painful looking heels. It was typical footwear for amazons, who often used the heels to deadly effect in combat; it took a lifetime for them to build up the necessary agility and balance to wear them in combat without sacrificing their unarmored mobility.

If only that were the end of it, they would have been far more covered than usual. Though the gowns were bordered deep black, every inch of the fabric between its top and bottom was a sheer gold, so pale and translucent that they may as well have been naked. Kyrie’s dress was just a hint more opaque than her mother’s, thankfully hiding her brand and preventing any uncomfortable questions from coming up. The Queen, on the other hand, didn’t care to hide anything. It was impossible to ignore how tight and hard her nipples were, sticking out like little flags dotting her breasts. 

If she was feeling horny, she didn’t show any other signs of it. They had been eating for almost an hour and every time Reva glanced over, they seemed just as stiff if not stiffer. Reva tried not to picture what she would see if her mother-in-law stood up. Reva’s attention snapped off of her and back on to the king as he slapped his closed meaty fist against his palm. 

“Of course,” the king continued, “there was nothing they could do at that point. We had surrounded them and boxed them in. The crumbling walls of their once great castle were no better than the sides of the pine boxes they would be buried in after we were done with them, if there was anyone left to make the coffins and bury them. Their lord saw only one way to escape the bloodshed and save his people,” he rumbled. “A duel. We of course accepted his challenge and chose to represent ourselves. Back then, we needed no champion to represent our honor. So, we called for our squire--”

The Queen reached over, touching her husband’s mighty bicep with her slender fingers, smiling her sly smile. “My love, you’ve told them that story at least a hundred times since they were girls. Perhaps we should set aside the days of yore and instead speak of the future.”

“Fine,” the king chuckled as the Queen trailed her fingers down his arm. As he acquiesced, she squeezed the firm muscle and then patted it. “Did you have something specific on your mind?” he asked her. With the end of his story, his tone changed, losing its implicit majesty as he went from king to father. 

The Queen’s fingers continued their slow glide down the king’s skin until they disappeared beneath the table. “Yes, in fact,” she continued, her smile growing by degrees. She paused for a second, and during that brief lull the king flared his nostrils and grunted in surprise, glancing down at his lap. “I do. We need to have a little talk about my daughter’s future.” Reva felt her mouth go dry with sudden discomfort. Did she really just grab his cock with Reva and their daughter sitting right across from them?

The centaur glanced at Kyrie at the sound of her chair scraping back, a pretty smile beaming forth from her face. “Thank you for the lovely meal and conversation, but it would be best if I were to retire for the evening. Good night, father. Mother.” She rose gracefully to her feet and then leaned down, pressing a chaste but entirely indiscrete kiss against Reva’s lips while the centaur was still flat-footed. “My wife.” While Reva was still reeling from the unexpected display of affection, she turned and sashayed out. 

Mouth open, Reva turned her head to watch Kyrie go. She closed the door gently behind herself, and for several seconds Reva just stared after her, certain something was about to go down. Slowly, she wet her lips and swallowed down her raw nerves, turning back towards the king and the Queen, who were both looking at her now, though in very different ways.

“Why,” the king asked the centaur, his broad brow wrinkling with his distracted displeasure, “did Kyrie just call you ‘my wife’, Dame Reva?” He seemed on the verge of saying something else but grunted, losing the words and instead glancing at the Queen. “Is this really the time or the place?” he asked her, a scowl beginning to worm its way onto his features.

The Queen wasn’t just smiling like a cat anymore. She was smiling like a cat with its claws sank deep into its poor, hapless prey. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked the king with soft confidence colouring her sensuous voice. “Dame Reva isn’t a child anymore, you know, and her people view sex the same way as mine.” The centaur could almost feel her ears give a little twitch, picking up on a faint noise, but one familiar to anyone who spent any amount of time in a barracks.

Reva felt her jaw go slack. She felt her body freeze.

“And to answer your question,” the Queen purred as she stroked her husband’s cock just out of Reva’s view beneath the table, “it’s because our daughter married Dame Reva in secret some time ago.” Her gaze was full of cool amusement, holding Reva’s eye all the while. “You’ll have to forgive me for not mentioning it sooner.” She paused, then looked sidelong at the king. “Are you near, husband?”

“What do you mean, she married--” the king grunted out, both his distraction and his displeasure rising, the latter clearly trending towards outright anger. “Gods damn it woman, yes,” he growled, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the high back of his chair, grabbing its armrests and squeezing them tightly.

Finally managing to clear her throat again, Reva stirred, beginning to rise from her folded four legs and get her hooves beneath herself. “Perhaps I should--”

“You will stay seated,” the king snapped immediately, before letting out a raw growl, clenching his jaw as he fought against inevitability.

“Yes, you shall,” the Queen smiled. Though there was no threat in her voice, Reva found herself far more frightened by the Queen of the Amazons than her husband in that moment. She finally turned towards the man she was busily jerking off and dipped down. 

As the Queen’s face disappeared, Reva slowly and awkwardly folded her legs beneath herself again. With nothing else to do, she listened to the sucking sounds coming from the other side of the table, wet and sloppy and loud as hell compared to the hand job. As she sucked on her husband’s cock, the Queen let out low moans that always seemed to make his tight control crack more and more.

Reva shifted uncomfortably, hyperconscious of her cock beginning to stir to life, eager to push against her sheath. It took everything in her to keep it from slipping out. She knew she shouldn’t be getting aroused by Kyrie’s mother, but she looked  _ so much _ like her wife, a clear image of what her  _ akhina _ would become in time. It was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to be in the king’s skin right now -- or better yet, to have the Queen pinned beneath her, with her experienced mouth and fingers set to work on her cock. 

Not that it could ever happen. Reva couldn’t imagine a set of circumstances where the Queen would willingly pass control over to her. And besides, the Queen frightened her, even when she seemed to be on Reva’s side. The amazon in question gasped with delight right after she audibly popped her mouth off of her husband’s cock, letting out a husky and breathless giggle. She once again began to jerk the king off, murmuring something too soft for Reva to hear.

“Gods damn it all, woman,” the king snarled. In his spot, Reva would be grabbing the Queen by the back of her head and fucking her face for all it was worth, but he kept gripping the armrests, showing far more discipline than Reva was capable of. He drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils, then let it out in a powerful sigh and relaxed his tensed shoulders. “You’ll be the end of me and the end of this bloody empire I’ve built,” he muttered.

At the same moment, the Queen laughed again, her handjob continuing for several more seconds before she smoothly straightened in her seat once more. She made no attempt to clean off the ropes of cum the king had sprayed across her lovely face, wearing them like a badge of honor, like a very different kind of conquest than the sort Reva herself would celebrate. There was a bit on her full lips, quickly cleared away by a slow drag of her tongue over their swell, clearly savored before she swallowed it.

Reva was  _ not _ winning the fight to keep her cock contained. She needed to get out of there, and quickly. “Your Majesties,” she began awkwardly, starting to rise again. The Queen narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits, simply canting her head to glance at the centaur knight. Reva closed her mouth, settling back down without one more word.

Smiling her satisfaction after that, the Queen rose to her feet. Just as Reva suspected, the sheer dress didn’t hide a hint of the Queen’s body. She could clearly see how flushed and wet her cunt was, smooth and perfectly hairless and clearly hungry for cock. Without any sort of preamble, she reached to her sides and peeled the tight garment up her body and over her head, tossing it carelessly aside and leaving her truly nude. 

“Now, my husband,” the Queen purred, putting herself between the king’s seat and the table. “Don’t you agree it would be in everyone’s best interest if we were to announce their union? There’s no need for ceremony,” she said as she swept out her hand, knocking plates and glasses and utensils alike off the table. Some things shattered while others clattered. Wine spilled and food fell. She smiled with the same satisfaction a kitten might take from knocking an inkpot off a desk. “No need to find her the right husband.”

“Why would I agree to that?” the king growled quietly. 

The Queen’s response was simple, immediate, and effective. She half-climbed onto the table, raising one thigh and resting her knee on the table, spreading her legs to give the king a tantalizing view of her waiting holes. Arching her back and stretching, she pressed her breasts into the table and reached towards Reva. With the shape of her body, Reva couldn’t exactly sit with her hands in her lap. They instead rested individually on the table, fidgeting restlessly.

Until the Queen slipped her hands into Reva’s, squeezing the centaur’s much larger ones with her slender fingers. That rendered them still. Reva continued to sit paralyzed in her discomfort, really wishing her cock would get back in its sheath of its own violation, or that she would perhaps suffer a timely case of erectile dysfunction. As the king slowly rose to his feet and aligned his stiffening cock with the Queen’s cunt, she spoke again. “You’ll agree to it because you know what you’ll lose if you don’t,” she told her husband with a smile, though her cum-covered face was facing Reva.

For a moment, the room was silent. The king had no retort, no smart counter. “Fine,” he muttered. “You’ll have it your way.” He thrust his hips forward and the Queen gasped out as it shoved her forward against the table. In an instant, the Queen’s catlike smile changed. It became an all too familiar grin, wanton and lust-driven without any hint of shame. She curled her fingers as she took the king’s thrusts, her nails scratching at Reva’s palms. 

“Now,” the Queen moaned without losing a hint of the raw need written so plain across her face, “I think-- it’s time you go bend my daughter over a table yourself, Dame Reva.” She squeezed the knight’s hands one more time, then released them and grabbed on to the edges of the table instead. The king grunted his agreement, grabbing his wife’s hips and focusing on taking out his frustrations on her wet pussy, Reva completely forgotten.

The centaur didn’t say a word as she got to her feet, her hard cock wobbling under her belly. Some small part of her wanted to see what would happen if she clambered her forelegs up on the table and presented the Queen with the problem she created, but she knew far better than to push her luck. At least she knew the palace well enough to avoid any unfortunate run-ins on her way back to Kyrie’s room. 

She didn’t bother telling Kyrie the good news and just went straight to tossing her  _ akhina _ over a table, just like the Queen suggested. After all, she clearly already knew what her mother was planning to do. Reva knew she should have punished her slut, but -- her horniness far outweighed her more sadistic needs. Punishment could come later.

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**_In the present…_ **

Reva opened her eyes and slowly ran her tongue over her teeth. She  _ had _ meant to punish Kyrie the next morning, and she  _ had _ meant to try and get a better grip on what the fuck had happened in the dining room. In the end, she had no time for either. Their union was announced to the empire the next day, and in a word, things got crazy.

She looked back down at Kyrie’s angelic face, reaching down to gently caress her cheek. Now that things had slowed down and cooled off… maybe it was time she paid the princess back with a healthy heaping of interest. Not that she was  _ complaining _ about having to be less discreet about their relationship -- the only shame was that in public, she had to defer to the princess, against both their instincts.

But she really could have warned Reva and maybe spared her the teasing sight of the Queen getting plowed, perfectly positioned to take another cock in her mouth. Whether or not it was rational, Reva decided that was enough of a reason to go through with her belated revenge. The centauride spent the rest of her night planning out the proper punishment. What she came up with would require her calling in more than a few favors around the palace and perhaps passing out a few bribes, but she felt certain it would be worth it.


	11. Thinking Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains equine bestiality. You've been warned!

**_Two days later..._ **

Kyrie pursed her pouty lips into a small frown, feeling a remarkable sense of deja vu. Something about the day felt strikingly familiar, like she had lived through it once before. As much as she tried to push it off, the nagging  _ sameness _ refused to go away. Though she had been racking her mind all morning, she couldn’t dredge up a memory that might be blamed for it or put her finger on a responsible dream.

She tried again.  _ Maybe... _

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**_That morning..._ **

The day had started off like any other. Kyrie got out of bed an hour or two after Reva, feeling as well-rested as ever with pleasant, subsiding aches in her ass and pussy. She reached back and felt over her ass. Sometimes Reva left it so bruised she couldn’t bear to sit down or wear anything that would irritate her poor, thick ass. Kyrie was delighted to feel out two on her left asscheek, not quite bad enough to inconvenience her, but raw enough that she would have a nice reminder of Reva’s brute strength all day long.

“Seashells, seashells. She sells seashells by the seashore,” the Crown Princess sung softly to herself, surprised to find her throat felt fine. Reva had been rougher than usual with her last night, fucking her throat so hard that Kyrie could barely manage a whisper once her mistress’ blessed cock pulled free of her mouth. 

Afterwards, she had Kyrie remove the collar that proudly proclaimed her as Her Royal Bitchness and don her training collar, built to squeeze and choke whenever a slut (Kyrie herself being a proud example, of course) squirmed too much. Her throat ended up being so sore that she could barely manage to moan by the time they were finished. 

Satisfied with her ass inspection and vocal check, Kyrie smiled to herself. She didn’t give a second thought to how quickly she bounced back from Reva’s abuses and went on with the next part of her routine. The training collar came back off, and soon thereafter Kyrie was once more Her Royal Bitchness. She clipped her leash into the collar’s ring and bit the leather gently, holding it with her teeth while she got down to her hands and knees. On all fours now, Kyrie crawled off to find her mistress, breasts swaying as she went.

Her mistress had already eaten, of course. That was fine. It was simply her right; Kyrie understood and accepted the need for public pretenses, but in her heart and soul she was fully dedicated to being her mistress’ good for nothing  _ akhina _ . Now Reva simply sat alongside their dining room table. The book she was reading looked just as ridiculously dainty in her hand as the gilded teacup she held in her other hand. Though Kyrie was tempted to giggle, she fought down the urge.

Reaching Reva’s flank, she shifted into a kneeling position and straightened, grasping her forearms behind her back. Keeping her head raised but her blue eyes downcast, she positioned herself exactly how she had been trained, her large and impossibly perky breasts presented forth, her whole being submissive and ready for orders.

When her mistress deigned to notice her, anyway. Kyrie waited patiently. The heel of her foot pressed into one of the bruises on her ass, the feeling enough on its own to begin peaking the princess’ pink nipples and make her pussy wet again. Minutes passed, not that Kyrie counted the seconds. 

Staring at her thighs and the rug beneath her, Kyrie could only measure the passage of time by the sound of Reva turning pages or sipping from her teacup. She focused on them, keeping her patience in check with the knowledge of her eventual reward.  _ That’s twelve sips _ , she told herself. Even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to smile, she couldn’t help but beam. That was a new record for Reva, and she couldn’t be more proud of her mistress, who usually drank her tea in six glugging ‘sips’, uncomfortable swallows by anyone else’s definition.

The teacup clicked as Reva set it on its saucer, then reached down and took hold of the leash. “Come on, my cock-hungry bimbo of a wife. Let’s get you dressed. I’ve taken the liberty of clearing your schedule for the day,” Reva said as she got up on all four hooves. “We’re going to go horse riding.”

“Yes, mistress,” Kyrie whispered, delighted and disappointed at once. She would have vastly preferred a good morning fuck, but -- horseback riding! Why, she hadn’t tried to go for a ride since that one time her mistress taught her how much of a cock-loving whore Kyrie was, born not to lead the Cesta Empire but to take centaur cock in her tight fuckholes whenever Reva wished to relieve her balls of their heavenly burden. She hadn’t even been back to the stables since their marriage. This would be exciting. Shivering, she crawled after Reva to see what her mistress had chosen for her to wear. 

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“Something on your mind, Your Highness?” Reva asked. Though the path to the royal stables was isolated, they still had a small cohort of guards with them. Such was the case almost any time they were outside the castle proper; a precaution ordered by the king after the riots, not yet rescinded. Their presence meant the two wives had to behave themselves. Kyrie wished she wasn’t walking alongside Reva, but was rather on her hands and knees, on her leash again.

_ Oh _ , Kyrie thought to herself, eyes widening slightly.  _ Or dragged. _ Reva had done that once, tying her  _ akhina _ up so tightly she couldn’t even crawl, pulling her around the gardens without a care for how dirty the princess got. The whole time, she chewed Kyrie out for failing to gulp down every ounce of her mistress’ heady cum, each harsh word and the sheer degradation of it all whipping her into a frenzied state of horny need by the time Reva cut her loose.

“... Kyrie? Are you okay?” Reva prompted again, breaking the princess’ daydreaming reverie. The princess’ cheeks flushed with embarrassment. How long had it been since she made her mistress prompt her twice? Oh, she could be such a terrible  _ akhina _ sometimes. Like any good  _ akhina _ , she blamed her failings on the lack of cock she received that morning. 

“Sorry,” Kyrie replied, glancing up and beaming a smile at Reva, her blue eyes lighting up. It must have been at least fourteen hours since the last time she got fucked. Even though she was looking forward to going horseback riding, she was far more eager to be mounted by Kyrie than to mount Silverlight. “It’s nothing. Just thinking about how familiar feels,” she explained. 

“Mm. I bet,” Reva drawled, smiling crookedly and glancing down at Kyrie’s breasts. “Brings back some fond memories, doesn’t it?” she asked after a moment, her smile turning into a smug little smirk.

Kyrie peeked down, unable to hold back her girlish giggle once she saw what made her mistress smirk. The Empire's capital had brutally hot summers, and this one was hotter than any she could remember. Kyrie supposed that was why Reva chose a tunic dress for her  _ akhina _ this morning, its white just sheer enough to hint at the tone of her fair skin beneath it. Though artful gold embroidery scrawled across its collar and hem, no one looking at her would be interested in either. The princess’ nipples pressed out visibly against the fabric, and the faint sheen of sweat on her skin had the garment clinging to her breasts, outlining them perfectly.

Taking a glance around, Kyrie spotted more than a few guards sneaking glances at her body. If the dress was clinging to her tits, it had to be hugging her ass as well. A couple of the men were walking awkwardly, trying to hide if not stifle the uncomfortably stiff lumps in their pants. Before Kyrie got her rough introduction to the birds and the bees, it wouldn’t have occurred to her that their hard cocks were her fault, or that a normal person would cover up. After that introduction…

Well, it still didn’t occur to Kyrie to cover herself up. She understood the concept of propriety well enough, but why not let their loyal soldiers enjoy themselves? Besides, she knew that her mistress liked showing her off. One briefly met her eye, and she smiled encouragingly at him. He smiled awkwardly back before turning away. 

Were they among centaurs, Kyrie would have been treated like a real  _ akhina _ , left nude and only dressed in the treasures Reva took in conquest, freely and proudly displayed for everyone to appreciate. And, of course, speak to her mistress’ prowess. 

Kyrie glanced down at her breasts again, and then it clicked for her what felt so familiar about this. This was the dress that she was wearing when Reva broke the princess in as her bitch, or at least a recreation of it; she couldn’t remember what happened to it, only that it came off her body at some point. Her smile slowly became a grin, bright and lusty, her blush deepening. And they were going into the very building Reva used for the dirty deed. That’s what was causing her deja vu. 

Reva was right. Fond memories. Maybe this was more than just horseback riding.

As they neared the stables, one guard after another approached the royal couple. Kyrie grew curious as Reva passed each of them a small pouch of coins and sent them back to town. She knew better than to ask. Right before they entered the stables, Reva passed off the last pouch and sent off the last guard, watching him go. 

Though Kyrie was beginning to feel impatient, wanting desperately to know if they were horseback riding or fucking, she bit her bottom lip and kept quiet, waiting on her mistress to give her an order, or at least some indication of what would come next. The very moment that the guard disappeared, Reva leaned down and grabbed Kyrie, careless of her wife’s surprised squeal as she tossed her belly-first over her shoulder.

“Be a good whore and stay quiet,” Reva growled, securing Kyrie’s position with a hand on her ass, her fingers digging in deeply against the bubble. Though she had finally been given an order, the princess couldn’t keep herself from letting out a delighted giggle. In the same vein, she couldn’t keep herself from pushing her ass back against Reva’s hand and wiggling her hips, hoping it would lead to something, anything. A finger in her pussy, perhaps. It didn’t lead to anything. 

Ignoring her  _ akhina’s _ squirming, Reva carried her into the building and into a familiar stall, the very one Reva had taken each of Kyrie’s three virginities with her equine dick. Her powerful fingers tugged at the straps and laces of her sandals, and without needing to be told Kyrie kicked them off eagerly. From there Reva lowered her down, setting Kyrie right before her.

Unabashed and eager, Kyrie just grinned up at Reva and waited, even though she knew she should be more subservient in the moment. Her centauride wife snorted, then gave Kyrie a sharp slap across the cheek, wiping the princess’ grin right off her pretty little face with a shocked gasp.

Shocked, but not at all displeased. As Kyrie looked back towards her mistress, cheek stinging from the red handprint left upon it, she felt her cunt’s wetness start to trickle. Another slap wouldn’t be so bad. Something to make her cheeks symmetrical, perhaps. But from the look on Reva’s face, Kyrie could tell her mistress didn’t want that. She did what she could to tame her enthusiasm, managing to force her grin down to a naked smile. 

“I think it’s time you learned some shame and humiliation, you cock-obsessed whore,” Reva growled, reaching out and grabbing at the collar of Kyrie’s dress. That felt  _ very _ familiar, too. She had vague memories of Reva ripping something off her that day, but to be blunt, the only thing Kyrie herself could remember from that day was Reva’s cock and all the orgasms it dragged her through. A sharp twist of Reva’s wrist and a mighty jerk of her arm had the tunic dress ripping from top to hem.

The princess bit back the aroused groan that so desperately wanted to spill out of her. She was going to get fucked, not go horseback riding. That was perfect. “Yes, mistress.” After speaking those two words, Kyrie bit down on her bottom lip and willed herself not to look like she was enjoying it  _ too _ much. She didn’t want to spoil her mistress’ plans, after all. Reva pulled the torn dress away and dropped it to the floor, leaving Kyrie fully nude but for her wedding band.

Again Reva grabbed the princess, picking her up and turning her, handling the princess’ body with an ease that made her feel so small, so weak, so perfectly ripe for the taking. With the way she was carried into the room, Kyrie hadn’t noticed the contraptions set up in the stall. One almost resembled the pillory her father sometimes punished criminals with, albeit with some key differences. The royal couple had something just like it in their rooms, and Reva often used it to fuck Kyrie with far more comfort. 

A pillory itself was a simple but effective way to lock a prisoner in place and keep them on display, unable to move. To be placed in a pillory was to be kept in an uncomfortable position by way of a hinged wooden board with holes for the neck and wrists. Once everything was in place, it could be locked and left until whomever ordered them restrained in such a way saw fit to have mercy on them.

Reva set Kyrie before that contraption and forcefully bent her over it. Obedient bitch that she was, Kyrie knelt where she needed to. Where a pillory or even a stockade consisted of one wooden board, this device consisted of three, each part kept firmly in place by metal bars. The lowest was raised and cushioned, meant to bear its captive’s weight without cutting off their circulation. 

Her mistress slammed it shut with a THUD and locked it in place. The middle board was higher yet and similarly padded. It had something else, too -- grooves for a horse’s raised forelegs to comfortably rest. In Kyrie’s experience, it let Reva thrust away inside of her fucktoy’s cunt without constantly shoving her forward. Kyrie shivered as Reva slammed that one shut too, locked her waist inside it. Between the lower and the middle boards, the princess was positioned fairly high up, her ass thrust out and her thighs splayed wide, both her pussy and her asshole left completely vulnerable.

The last one required Kyrie arch her back in an uncomfortable position, but other than that, it was simply a pillory. After it slammed shut, Kyrie was left completely immobile, barely able to even wiggle. She closed her eyes, relishing the restraints, knowing that soon enough she would finally be getting fucked. Oh, she could practically taste her mistress’ delightful cock in her cunt already. She thought nothing of hearing Reva’s clothes hit the straw-covered ground.

When she heard a fourth THUD, Kyrie slowly opened her bright blue eyes and peeked sideways. Reva had just locked her waist into the other contraption fit inside the stall -- similar in design to the one Kyrie was locked into, but clearly meant for an equine creature and built to scale. The princess’ mouth slowly fell open, and through the haze of her lust she stared at Reva in wide-eyed confusion.

“C’mon,” Reva called over her shoulder, grinning maliciously. Kyrie could hear shuffling footsteps, but she couldn’t turn her head to see who they belonged to until they were reaching up to slam the pillory into place around Reva’s neck and wrists. The royal stablehand let out a sigh and shook his head, stepping back out of Kyrie’s sight and out of the stall.

Confused and disappointed, Kyrie couldn’t help but speak out of turn, craning her neck to try and meet Reva’s eye. It didn’t seem like either of them could quite manage that, though they could see each other in profile. “Reva,” she whispered, forgetting the proper formalities. “What’s going on? Why are you--”

“ _ Akhina _ ,” Reva cut in sharply. “Did I ask you to speak? Did I give you permission to use my name?”

“No,” Kyrie replied immediately, swallowing softly. “No, mistress. Please forgive your bitch. She can’t think of anything but your cock right now, so please forgive her for being so stupid. But--”

“Today, I’m teaching you a lesson in humility and gratitude,” Reva interrupted again, her tone dangerously low. Kyrie swallowed, knowing she was in for  _ something _ very new. Something she couldn’t even begin to guess at. “If you were truly grateful for your cock, you wouldn’t get me involved in your mother’s  _ shenanigans _ . But looking back, I’ve realized that there’s a good reason you take my cock for granted--”

“Mistress, I would never--” Kyrie interrupted, her eyes going wide as saucers. A genuine feeling of panic began to rise in her stomach. What had she done? What shenanigans?

“Quiet.” Reva’s voice cracked out like a whip, and with a whimper Kyrie obeyed, pursing her full lips tightly. “The reason you take my cock for granted is because you don’t have anything to compare it to. We’re going to change that today,” her mistress concluded, proudly. “You’re going to get fucked by my lesser cousins, and by the end of this afternoon you’ll know  _ much better _ . But don’t fret, my pet. I’ll be right here with you, showing you  _ just _ how pathetic you are. They won’t make me cum even once,” Reva concluded confidently. “You may speak.”

The panic in Kyrie’s stomach fell back down. She blinked a few times, opening and closing her mouth. Reva snorted and chuffed proudly, more than pleased with her plan, but even after the explanation Kyrie was very confused. Slowly, she narrowed her eyes and pinched her brows together, trying to work through everything Reva said. After a long pause she candidly admitted, “I don’t get it, mistress. Are your cousins visiting?” Quickly, excitement began to color her voice and fill her heart. “Oh, I’m going to get to meet your family! How--”

In her bubbly excitement, she tried to clap her hands, forgetting they were locked in the pillory. Her fingers wiggled in a less than satisfying way. She puffed her cheeks out, then paused and let the stream of consciousness continue to pour forth from her lips. “Oh, but -- I don’t think you’re supposed to fuck your cousins, Re--”

“Not my  _ literal _ cousins, for fuck’s sake,” Reva snapped, making Kyrie feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but no less confused. “Good gods help me, you’re such a bimbo that you make me believe each and every stereotype about blondes being stupid.”

“Well,” Kyrie blinked again, “who are your  _ figurative _ cousins?” Behind them, a pair of horses snorted and neighed, the clop-clop of their horseshoes joining the shuffling of the stablehand’s feet. “Is this some kind of soldierly ‘blood brothers’ thing, but with--”

Reva’s only answer was a groan of dismay. 

“Really seen it all now,” the stablehand muttered, and it sounded like he mumbled something else about ‘not being paid enough for this shit’ and ‘perverted nobility’, but whatever those words were, they didn’t quite reach Kyrie’s ears. He cleared his throat, then gave the horses audible slaps to their flanks. “Well, fellers, you behave yourselves -- and uh, Your Highness, Dame, I’ll be back in a half-hour or so.”

“Wait,” Kyrie chirped out, stopping the stablehand right as he began to shuffle back out. “Are you Dame Reva’s figurative cousin?” She  _ had _ to get to the bottom of this. As much as Kyrie loved her mistress, she really wasn’t making any sort of sense with this whole talk of ‘lesser cousins’ and fucking them, but not really fucking them.

“I--”

Kyrie shrieked at the sudden, unexpected sensation of a horse mounting her from behind, its muscular body and its soft coat coming to rest against her back as its forelegs slid into place. Grateful for the distraction, the stablehand slipped away without truly addressing the blonde princess’ question. It seemed like she would be forever in the dark about who Reva’s cousins were.

She puffed out a breath and tried to turn her head to look at the horse, but she was only able to get a glimpse of its fur as it dipped its head and nosed at the top of the princess’ head. It was Silverlight, her brother’s stallion, pure white all over. Except for its gray mane, so light in hue that it bordered silver, the reason for its name. “Oh,” she laughed. “Hello, boy! I’m sorry, I don’t have any carrots for you--”

“Ohhhh, fuck,” Reva cried out, drawing Kyrie’s eye immediately. The other horse, a familiar chestnut-coated stallion, had mounted her mistress and already stuffed its equine cock into her cunt. Once again, Kyrie’s eyes went wide as she gasped in shock. She knew that Reva wasn’t a virgin before she fucked Kyrie, but the centauride had made it clear that she was always on top and that she would never let anyone touch her pussy without either earning it in conquest or Reva herself having due need. 

Once, Kyrie asked if she could pleasure her pussy and Reva threatened to shave her head on the spot. The princess never brought it up again. “Fuck,” Kyrie’s mistress panted out, her green eyes wide. “That’s so much bigger than I-- fuck! So much bigger than I thought.” She grunted and groaned out as the horse thrusted into her virgin pussy. Another thrust and she gasped, then grit her teeth and clenched her jaw, clearly straining, lost in her own world without Kyrie, dragged there by the intense sensation. Dragged there by the pain, dragged there by the pleasure. She snorted and closed her eyes, her expression growing more and more intense.

Things finally clicked into place for Kyrie. “Oh,” she whispered not to herself, but to Silverlight. “You’re her ‘lesser cousins’.” That made sense. She could remember something about Reva getting angry over being likened to a horse. It felt like years ago. The beautiful princess barely noticed Silverlight shifting and adjusting his weight atop of her, his stiff cock aligning with Kyrie’s wet and ready cunt. “So she’s--”

Kyrie trailed off, feeling her eyes begin to water as she strained to watch Reva more fully. Her mistress decided to get fucked by the horses she disparaged to teach Kyrie a lesson. She wasn’t sure she understood what that lesson was or what  _ your mother’s shenanigans _ referred to, but it was perhaps the single most beautiful gift Reva had given her. Short of her cock itself, of course. “Oh, I love her so much,” she whispered again to the horse. One thing hadn’t quite clicked for Kyrie yet, though, and it took Silverlight snorting and finally thrusting into her waiting pussy to change that.

Her mistress decided  _ they _ were going to get fucked by horses. Kyrie squealed her surprise as her brother’s stallion impaled her on its huge cock -- her second cock, while only a few feet away her wife was taking her first cock in her pussy. “O-oh, Silverlight,” she gasped out, trying to move, trying to twist, but finding herself completely immobile in the contraption. 

She realized right away that both Reva’s cock and Silverlight’s cock were so big that on a physical level, she couldn’t tell the difference between them at all. They both stretched her tight little fuckhole far wider than it was intended to go in seconds, not just hitting the little sensitive spots in her cunt that she found under Reva’s guidance, but rather hitting  _ all _ of it at once. 

Already, she could feel an orgasm building up, her muscles tensing. She was so horny and pent up that the horse’s first cock was almost enough on its own to push Kyrie over the edge of sanity and right into quivering hysterics. “F-fuck,” she moaned out, trying to turn her head once again towards Reva. Even though she couldn’t tell the physical difference between their cocks -- she could feel one on some deeper level. She would be a liar if she said being rammed by a horse wasn’t amazing and that she wasn’t enjoying herself immensely, but it wasn’t Reva’s cock.

Even when Reva was at her cruelest, Kyrie could feel her love in each scathing word or the rough use of her body. She didn’t feel that from Silverlight. She just felt his need to get off, pounding into Kyrie’s half-amazon pussy relentlessly. He didn’t give a damn about her pleasure, he just wanted to empty his balls as quickly as possible. And that was okay. So long as she got to orgasm and got her fair share of his cum, she didn’t care. 

She’d prefer Reva’s cock, but -- she was practically right beside Kyrie. The princess knew she would love doing anything, if only her mistress was the one making her do it. Kyrie squeezed her eyes shut, not bothering to fight back the trembling grin that took over her face. “Oh,” she whispered, curling her hands into white-knuckled fists, her toes curling so hard that the bones threatened to lock in place. “Just like that-- fuck me for my mistress, Silverlight, come on and-- fuck, yes--”

Kyrie cried out as her orgasm hit, her restrained legs convulsing with its sheer force as it shot through her body. Her pussy clenched and released powerfully and repeatedly around the stallion’s cock, which was all he needed from the princess’ pussy. Just as her cunt began threatening to squirt, Silverlight’s cock shot its load deep inside the royal cunt. As he slid down from his position propped up on the contraption and left her empty, she could already feel his sloppy white mess begin to drip out of her gaping hole.

The princess’ body fell as limp as it could within the contraption, gasping and panting for breath, her mind wiped clean of anything but pleasure and warm, fuzzy love for her mistress. As the aftershocks of her orgasm rolled through her body, making her legs twitch and spasm helplessly, she began to giggle breathlessly, already feeling high on the one orgasm alone. With half-lidded eyes, she glanced over at Reva again. Her giggles had begun to subside, but what she saw reignited them.

Reva had since relaxed her expression, finally acclimated to her first time on bottom. Instead of clenching her jaw and gritting her teeth, she wore an expression of mild consternation, letting out a little soft, feminine grunt each time the stallion’s cock thrust into her. “Just hurry up and cum already,” she growled back at her fucker. “This-- ah! --isn’t doing anything for me,” she said, with palpable annoyance over the squeak she let out mid-sentence. For a moment, she closed her eyes, then hissed out as the horse pounding her once untouched pussy grunted and neighed. Much to Kyrie’s delight, she could catch the barest hint of Reva’s creampied pussy as the horse worked himself out of her and dismounted.

“Well,” the centaur exhaled, not doing a great job of masking her regret and irritation, “The stablehand ought to be back soon, but as you can see--”

The pair both tried to glance back at once when they heard several more hooves clopping, whinnying and neighing and grunting. Kyrie’s features lit up and she began to grin all over again. “Mistress,” she said in a hush, “I think we’re about to get more cocks in here. You’re going to  _ love _ it when you get to cum on one.”

Reva herself could only gape in open-mouthed horror. “B-but…” She had paid the stablehand  _ quite handsomely _ to set this up. Two horses, with him nearby and ready to release them when the horses were finished. It sounded like a hell of a lot more than two horses were loose in the stables. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered, full of  _ so many regrets _ . 

*****-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-*****

An hour passed without the stablehand returning, then another… and then another. And by that point, the horses who had already gotten to fuck Kyrie and Reva were beginning to get antsy, smelling the sex in the air and knowing exactly where to go for it. It was a small miracle that they stayed orderly about it, that no one ended up getting kicked by a pair of hooves or bitten by huge, blunt teeth. 

It was enough to convince Reva that horses might not be quite as stupid as she thought they were -- and that they understood exactly what Reva said and thought about them. That the extended horse gangbang was some form of cruel and unusual revenge, and not just a case of the stallions taking advantage of what was freely available.

“If--if you ever tell anyone I cummed on horse cock,” Reva gasped out to her  _ akhina _ at one point, “I swear I’ll never fuck you again.” It was a dire threat, but one lacking heat and conviction, not that Kyrie showed any signs of hearing it. She was alternating between giddy laughter and lewd moans, having gone utterly boneless in the contraption Reva had built in the stable stall. The princess seemed to lose more and more of her lucidity by the hour, increasingly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of times she had cummed and had been cummed inside.

More time passed, and Reva became increasingly certain that some freak accident must have taken place. The stablehand may very well have tripped, broken his neck and somehow released  _ every horse _ in the stable at once. The second time one of the horses made her orgasm, she didn’t even bother mentioning it to Kyrie, more humiliated and ashamed than her  _ akhina _ was. By the third time she cummed on a horse’s cock, she had begun actively enjoying herself, albeit without Kyrie’s enthusiasm. 

It wasn’t like she had anything better to do, and her horny mind decided the path of least resistance was the best way to get through this. There was no reason to just sit around and be miserable while getting fucked, after all. She might as well just enjoy herself.

Soon enough, it grew dark. The horses began going back to their stalls one at a time, usually right after cumming one last time in amazon or centaur pussy. Without lanterns lit, the girls were soon left in near darkness, and Reva was beginning to plan her murder of the little fucker who put them in this predicament. This predicament that she had absolutely  _ no part _ in causing whatsoever.

What Reva didn’t know was that the Queen had visited the stablehand right after she made her initial pitch and bribe. She quadrupled Reva’s price, offering him with it a new identity and a new career as a countryside magistrate. All he had to do was go along with Reva’s plan… but let out every single horse in the stables and simply leave. 

Of course the royal stablehand took the desk job over dealing with equine muck all day.

The Queen didn’t bother to go check on them until they were almost ready to throw in the towel and drowse. “Goodness,” she cooed as she entered the stall, lifting her lantern high to take in the sight of both women’s thoroughly debauched pussies and the puddles of horse cum that had accumulated beneath their legs. “You two look like you’ve been busy. Shall I untie you?”

“Oh, mother,” Kyrie slurred, wearing a dopey smile. The Queen ventured forth, standing between the two and looking over their exhausted faces one at a time, tutting softly. “I think we could use a bath and a meal,” she laughed, “but Reva was just starting to enjoy herself. Can you untie us and call for servants, so we can just… get both here and not have to leave?” Her eyes brightened again, her eagerness plain on her face. “Then we can get tied back up and go again. It was so fun.”   
  
“Oh, fuck no,” Reva interjected, horrified at the very idea.

The Queen simply smiled.

**Author's Note:**

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